


Standing on Thin Ice

by adrenalineguts



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 86,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrenalineguts/pseuds/adrenalineguts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post CATWS: Adjusting to the world and himself as an ex-assassin becomes difficult for Bucky Barnes. Until he crosses paths with a quirky, young librarian named Eva, Bucky's eyes open up to a whole new chapter of the future. Winter Soldier/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all. I'm usually used to writing bandom fics, but after a while of obsessing over Winter Soldier, I just thought, "You know what? Fuck it, I'll write a Bucky fic." 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, let me know what you guys think :)

"Your blood work looks normal," the woman said, flipping through a clipboard. "So does your respiratory and immune tests."

He didn't say anything. He never said much, really. He gave a slight curt nod, but kept staring straight ahead at the white, windowless walls. His dark hair fell over him like a veil, shielding his blue eyes. The physician didn't mind, though, knowing that this was his normal behavior and had always been so for the past few months.

The physician placed the earbuds of a stethoscope in her ears and placed the end piece over the left side of his bare chest. After a few minutes, she hastily scribbled on her clipboard. She sat down at her desk and looked through the past physicals. A moment later, the physician turned back to look at him.

"How many hours of sleep are you having per night, James?"

"Six," he answered, his voice was barely audible and raw, like he hadn't spoken for years.

It was a lie. He'd only sleep for two hours every night, or sometimes not at all. He was exhausted but kept up the façade that he was well rested.

"Any new memories?" He shook his head. "Same nightmares?" This time he nodded.

It was always the same questions, the same answers, the same optimism and apathy radiating from the two people in the room. The nightmares haven't let up since Steve Rogers brought him to the underground base of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, and from time to time he resented the blond when he wondered if his mental health would've been better had he not come. But he was here now, and leaving wouldn't be possible.

"Is there any pain in your shoulder?" The physician nodded to his left arm, which shined under the bright white light.

He barely shrugged. "It's dull." More scribbling.

"Alright, James," she took off her glasses, rubbing the wrinkles along her eyes. "We're done here. Have a pleasant day."

His face didn't even twitch, not even a small smile. He pulled on his sweater over his chest and pushed himself off the examination table. He exited the room, with Steve waiting on the other side. The brunet walked passed him down the newly renovated walls, courtesy of Tony Stark's generous donation. Steve walked in step next to him as they made their way to the steel elevator.

"Want to eat at the café?" Steve asked, trying to offer him a smile as he pressed the button.

"No."

"Aw, come on, Buck," he followed the man into the elevator when it opened. "When was the last time you ate?"

Bucky ignored him, pressing the button to the fifth floor and made their descent. Steve stayed silent for a moment, eyeing his old friend, half hoping Bucky would suddenly spring back to his old self, the one from seventy years ago. It was hard to interact with the dark haired man when he barely gave anyone a glance or replied in short answers, or hardly any acknowledgement when he had this wall built up around him. Steve didn't blame Bucky, he understood his situation, and didn't wish to force anything on his friend, but he thought it was rather lonely. As time had went on, he noticed that Bucky had barely made an effort to ask a question or to have a conversation. The only people he  _did_ talk to was Steve, but that was all on Steve's part to force some human communication on him, and Natasha. But when the redhead did talk to him, it was just rile him up a bit and that was when they saw the most out of Bucky spilling out of his mouth in irritated bursts. But other than that he was mostly withdrawn.

Not a lot had changed since Steve had brought Bucky back after ten months of searching. He remembered when he and Sam had stopped by a pub to have a drink in Frankfurt, and upon entering he immediately spotted his friend leaning against the bar. Bucky was looking into his drink, a small bowl of peanuts beside him, wearing a large coat and a baseball cap hiding his fully bearded face. Steve remembered confronting his long-lost friend and nearly begged him to return to D.C., to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Of course, Bucky had been reluctant and almost punched Steve when he had been confronted, but he eventually gave in, knowing it would shut the blond up.

When they arrived to the newly built and underground (it was unknown to the government and public ever since the helicarrier incident) S.H.I.E.L.D., Bucky was immediately restrained by Fury, and Steve angrily questioned him. To which Fury replied, "Just in case." Bucky was in a room for questioning by Agent Hill and then examined by the physician, and when they decided he was checked out as no threat, S.H.I.E.L.D. took him in. But Fury, however didn't instill any trust him and had him live within the base and not step foot outside until he proved he could handle it. But not everyone thought he could handle life outside the base's safety, even Steve had a few doubts. Bucky was cautious about the idea, of setting foot onto the streets and getting bombarded with looks of fear and intolerance. But it was the thought of him suddenly snapping and going into a killing frenzy.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Steve asked again.

"Whatever you want," Bucky shrugged which made Steve sigh.

The two got off on the fifth floor and walked down the newly painted and floored halls (again, courtesy of Tony Stark). The fifth floor was built mainly as living quarters for agents, for those with living difficulties because of the information that was leaked to the internet or to be closer for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s missions, like Agent Barton for example. Fury had Bucky settle into one of the small apartments for close supervision. Bucky unlocked his door, the fourth one on the right, while Steve rambled on about nonsense; when Steve rambled, the brunet would start to tune out.

The inside of the apartment was furnished nicely with antique furniture and pale green walls, which was mostly Steve and Natasha's doing. The style was similar to that of the nineteen forties, which the blond man secretly hoped would help Bucky's memories resurface. The Captain even bought a record player and several records of forties jazz and swing and a record of Brian Crain's solo piano. That was actually the only thing Bucky seemed to use and only listened to Brian Crain while the computer and flat screen TV were barely touched.

Bucky went straight for the couch to lay down, resting his right arm over his face while his metal arm rested on his stomach. It was only noon and he felt completely exhausted, the weight of the previous night's lack of sleep making his head heavy. Steve made his way into the kitchen, taking the liberty of making himself a pastrami sandwich; most of the food in Bucky's small kitchen was devoured by Steve due to Bucky's lack of appetite.

When Steve wasn't on his missions, he was usually at Bucky's, eating or watching old reruns or trying to make conversation with the former Winter Soldier. There were times when Bucky did appreciate Steve's company, showing bits of gratitude when he'd suddenly remember a lost memory due to the blond's many habits, or pulling him out of his recurring nightmares. But sometimes it was hard to be around Steve; the fact that Bucky had tried to kill him and suppressing the urge to annihilate Steve ate away at him. Steve used to be his  _mission_  and here he was, letting Captain America eat his food.

Steve nudged Bucky's legs a little to sit down beside him. The one thing Steve enjoyed about the twenty-first century was the ability to watch television and eat at the same time. It was something he looked forward to after coming home from a long, hard mission.

A knock on the door interrupted the peace in the room.

"I'm coming in." The door opened with Natasha bustling in, wearing her civilian clothes. She waved an envelope above her head that had Fury's seal on the outside. "For you, Barnes."

Bucky took it without even glancing at her. She sat in the armchair, crossing her legs with an expectant look while he opened it. A letter fell out and his eyes scanned over it, slight confusion dawning his face.

"Good behavior?" He looked over to the smirking woman. " _Release_?"

Steve finished his last bite. "What's this about a release?"

"Well, as of today Fury is allowing you to leave the base when you please," Natasha explained while she examined her manicure. "Of course, you have to report every now and then to keep them updated. Good behavior does pay off, doesn't it, Barnes?"

Bucky slightly narrowed his eyes at her. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. Just that you're given the liberty to roam around but always come back for your checkups and whatnot. And Fury said to not let this get to your head; he still doesn't trust you."

"It sounds like he thinks I'm a housecat," he muttered.

Steve slapped his knee. "This is good news, Buck. Don't you want to go out and do something?"

"No."

"You keep hiding out in here, people will start to think you're creepy," Natasha yawned.

"Come on, name a place," Steve was very persistent. "We'll go anywhere you like. Movie theater?"

"No," the brunet felt his headache coming back.

"The mall?"

"No, too many people."

"Give it up, Cap," Natasha rose and stretched the muscles in her back. "He's just antisocial. Now if you'll both excuse me, I have errands to run, like  _normal people."_

Bucky crumpled up the paper and threw it at her, which the redhead only dodged. He exhaled the short breath he had been holding in when he heard the door shut. He wasn't fond of Natasha's badgering to be a little normal. He wasn't even sure what normal is; he wasn't even sure if Natasha  _herself_  was normal. Steve washed his plate and placed it on the drying rack.

"You didn't sleep again," Steve noted, shifting his gaze to his friend on the couch. He knew everything just by taking one glance.

Bucky shut his eyes. "Yes."

"Nightmares again?" Bucky nodded. "Maybe they can prescribe someth-"

" _No._ " He snapped, making Steve frown. "No pills."

"Any progress on your memories, then?" Steve quickly changed the subject.

"Just Hydra. And the train in the mountains." Bucky's face pinched in discomfort when his shoulder began to ache at the memories. There were times when he'd come across something, trying to distinguish if whether or not it was a memory or nightmare. It was often that Bucky had been trapped between the two, violently shaking and losing himself within the madness and frustration of finding himself in the mess of his mind. It was when Steve would pull him back into the fabric of reality, snapping into a cold sweat and dealing with the ache in his left shoulder. It was worse at night, when he would actually fall asleep, because no one was there to wake him up. Steve wasn't there to pull him out of the never ending darkness; the only thing that could wake him up was his screams and Bucky would find himself alone in his sweat soaked bed sheets.

Optimism wasn't really his cup of tea.

The blond sighed again, looking at the man who was crumpled up on the couch. He would've laughed for the fact that the couch was too small for Bucky's large form, causing his legs to dangle off the side. But this... this was just  _sad._  He didn't blame the poor guy for his constant self loathing and dark thoughts, but there were times when Steve wanted to force Bucky to swallow an entire bottle of Xanax and become the good ol', fun Bucky Barnes that he once was.

A few hours afterwards, Steve left Bucky to his thoughts and went home, promising to come back the next day. The only thing that Bucky was left with was silence and his even breathing. He hadn't left his place on the couch, staring at the ceiling for so long that everything merged into the color of cream. He'd been lying there for hours, but this was usually his daily routine.

It wasn't the fact that he had nothing to do (which was true because the ex-assassin was stuck into the pit of boredom) but he was just too  _afraid_ to do anything. The last thing he did before coming to S.H.I.E.L.D. was get drunk in Germany, and before that he had killed several people during the Project Insight incident. Deep down whether he liked it or not, he couldn't risk participating in anything with the risk of accidentally killing anyone. Locked away in his mind, the Winter Soldier part of him shook and gnawed at the bars, threatening to spring back and crush a skull beneath his fingertips.

After a while his back began to whine in protest after being in such an uncomfortable position for a long time. He sat up, rubbing his right hand over his face and his heavy eyes. His feet dragged along the floor into the kitchen where he filled a glass with water, bringing the glass to his lips. He set the glass down and stared down into the kitchen drain, wondering to himself how far down it went into the darkness. That was his life, a kitchen drain full of leftovers and crap and murky water.

Bucky Barnes was the most depressing person alive. If there was an award for being the most depressing, he'd most definitely win it.

The crumpled letter he had thrown at Natasha was still on the floor. Bucky picked it up and smoothed it, re-reading it again.

" _...Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes has proved to be in standard health physically and to an extent his mental state is in terms acceptable. Due to regular, calm behavior, Sergeant Barnes has earned S.H.I.E.L.D.'s trust should he continue to suppress urges to harm the public and avoid possible confrontation with Hydra. Therefore, Sergeant Barnes has earned the right to set foot off S.H.I.E.L.D. grounds and reside within the city by choice so long as he..._ "

Bucky snorted quietly to himself when he had read the part about his mental state. They had  _no idea_ what his mental state was like. It was strange though, the idea of having freedom felt foreign in his head. For as long as he had been with Hydra, the idea of freedom had never existed nor had it ever crossed his mind. He didn't even have the ability to think for himself, only addressing his rage and will to kill. When he actually made a decision for himself for the first time, he panicked and punched a hole into a wall. Nowadays, however, his mind just shut down, mostly because of exhaustion and not knowing  _what_  to think about.

A tiny little voice inside Bucky, one he tried to stamp down into the dirt, wondered if it would be alright to go out into public for a little while. He rubbed his temples, sighing. Sometimes thinking for himself was harder than keeping himself from going wild and killing everyone.

He threw the letter on his coffee table and went to his room, falling onto his bed with a thump. It was sometimes hard to lie on his bed; his body wasn't used to something so soft. For decades his body always rested on something that felt like a rock. He felt as if he'd melt through. Bucky stared up at the dark ceiling, another night filled with horrors and wide eyes.

* * *

For the next few days whenever Steve wasn't looking, Bucky would always glance at the wrinkled letter on the coffee table. Despite the fact that he could care less, he was drawn to the piece of paper. It was always the part that said, "... _the right to set foot_..." that kept receiving his attention. It itched away at his mind, an unidentifiable urge to do  _something_. He'd sit at the couch, arms crossed and shaking his leg before picking up the letter, reading it, then setting it back down. He'd get up and pace, running a hand through his greasy hair (God knows how long it's been since he's washed it) and walk back over to reread the goddamn letter.

It wasn't until one day that Bucky had shoved Steve's coat into his chest, muttering with great irritation that he wanted to go somewhere.

"What?" Steve blinked, looking at the ex-assassin as if he'd gone crazy and killed someone, which wouldn't be a surprise. The brunet always looked like he was about to kill someone.

"I want to go out," Bucky scowled, shoving his hair underneath a baseball cap. He pulled on a hooded sweatshirt and glove over his metal hand "Don't make me change my mind."

It took a moment for Steve to understand what Bucky was asking before a blinding grin grew on his face. He threw his jacket on and the two left the quiet apartment. The walk into the suburbs of D.C. wasn't very long from the base, about a twenty minute walk. It was a busy Tuesday afternoon, the October chill settling in the air even though the sun shined. Bucky kept his eyes on the ground, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with all people in the streets, whereas Steve breathed in the fresh air.

They looked like an odd pair; Captain America walking the streets with a big smile on his face while the former assassin was glaring from underneath his hat at every person who had the misfortune of setting their eyes on him.

"So is there any place you wanted to go in mind?" Steve asked him after crossing a street.

Bucky chewed on the inside of his lip. "I actually didn't think I'd get this far."

The blond laughed lightly. "Well, do you have an idea?"

"Somewhere quiet."

"The park?"

"And with a minimal amount of people."

"Have you been to the library?" Bucky shook his head. "Let's go there, minimal people and it's quiet. There's something I've been meaning to read anyway."

The brunet grunted and followed Steve through the busy streets. His skin itched when he walked past people, his hands flexing inside the pockets where he stuffed them in his jeans. Every time they passed an alleyway, he felt the need to bolt down the murky darkness and hide. Isolating himself for so long really took it's toll on him. All the sounds around him flooded his ears. The birds chirping, the sound of engines and tires, people chatting away amongst themselves or on their phones... the sounds meshed together into one giant hum of white noise that made Bucky's ears ring. He pulled his flesh hand out of his pocket and rubbed his temple, trying to rid the pulsing within his head.

The two super-soldiers passed many shops that people walked in and out of. There was a bustling bakery they passed that emitted a delicious smell, filled with cakes and sweet breads. A memory triggered and flashed beneath his eyelids: his mother baking rolls for dinner. The memory was a little fuzzy, but the aroma was so clear. The little voice wondered if it would be alright to stop by on the way back.

The library was one of the older buildings in town. It was large with red brick walls and white sculpted pillars in the front. The borders along the windows were also painted a coat of white. At the second level, a large balcony looked over the city, a place where the public could read or study, only no one was there because of the chill in the air. Two small lion statues were placed on either side of the concrete steps to the entrance and a sign with magnetic letters informed the public of their open hours.

Steve held the door open for Bucky and the two were met with tall bookcases, going all the way to the back wall. A staircase was in front of the door, where more bookcases stood at the top floor. Just as Steve had said, it was quiet and very few people were there as well as for the few librarians. Whenever someone coughed, it echoed throughout the whole building.

"I'm going to look at this row here," Steve turned to his friend. "Take a look around."

Before he could say anything, Bucky had watched Steve disappear into the shelves and he was left all alone. He sighed, hoping it wasn't loud enough to echo. His feet took him to the staircase and he held on to the carved, wooden railing. It squeaked under his weight when he ascended the steps. His nose tickled when he breathed in the dusty, papyrus-scented air. He wandered through the rows that towered over him, glancing at the many tables with glowing lamps situated on top of the dark wood. A few students from the nearby university were studying, piles of books resting by their heads, not taking any notice to Bucky.

He was reminded of one of his past missions, when he had assassinated a senator in a library similar to this one. The violent piece of him that was locked away inside of them craved to see him use his arm to bash one of the student's head through the desk. A chill ran down his spine and he shook off the image.

He looked at every book on every shelf, taking note of which ones were more frequently checked out to the ones that hadn't been touched in years. Some were coated in dust so thick that he couldn't make out the title or author. Eventually he had wandered into the "classics" section, stopping to look at some titles he had never even seen. He picked up a worn copy of  _The Great Gatsby_ and noticed that its copyright was dated back into the nineteen twenties, wondering if maybe he had read the book in his past life.

His body tensed up when he heard a scuffling sound followed by a light whine a few rows behind him. He put the book back in its place on the shelf and slowly moved along the sides of the bookshelves, keeping every one of his footsteps mute. With his back pressed firmly against the wood, he tilted his head to peer around the corner.

A girl stood on a small ladder, a stack of books in one arm while the other tried to reach as far as it could to a high shelf. Her face was scrunched up in concentration while her glasses rested precariously on the tip of her nose. Her head was tilted so far back that her hair band was starting to slide off her bobbed, dark brown hair. Bucky's muscles relaxed when he realized he had been alert for nothing. The ladder was teetering when her feet stood on her toes, and Bucky already foresaw her fall when the girl wobbled dangerously and lost her balance.

She made a small squeak when the air rushed out from beneath her and Bucky's legs moved so fast, arms already up to catch her as she fell. The books dropped around them, thudding and echoing off the walls. The girl looked up at Bucky with surprise, eyes magnified from her large glasses. He looked back down at her with just as much surprise sprawled across his face.

Relief flooded her face. "Oh, God,  _thank you_. Jeez, a second sooner and I'd have broke my neck."

Bucky set her down gently. "Ye... yeah."

"Seriously, thanks, I owe you one," she said as she smoothed her sweater out and bent down to pick up the books.

Bucky had somehow followed her to the floor and collected them into a stack. His eyes flickered to her face, seeing that her glasses were now tucked into the pocket of her sweater, making her brown eyes appear normal sized rather than buggy. A nametag was pinned to the front, reading, "Eva" with little stars doodled around it. She tucked a short piece of dark hair behind her ear and he pondered if girls usually cut their hair as short as a boy's. He mentally rolled his eyes, because his hair wasn't exactly cut to a guy's standards.

She looked up at him and a sudden heat burned his ears when he didn't look back down fast enough. She squinted at him which made the man puzzled for a moment. He grew uncomfortable at the way she squinted him down with her light pink lips pursed in thought.

"World War Two," she said suddenly.

Bucky's face paled and he suddenly wondered if the girl knew about who he was and the events that happened in the nineteen forties.

"What?" He managed to spit out.

"You're looking for novels related to World War Two, right?"

Oh.  _Books_. He let out an internal sigh of relief. He looked up slightly to see the sign hanging behind her indicating that this was the World War Two novel section. He nodded as if to go with what she said.

"Yes... World War Two."

She gave him a smile, standing up to set the stack of books on the ladder and Bucky followed suit. He watched her look up at the shelves, fingertips drumming against her lips before reaching to pull out a paperback book. She handed it to him, smile still etched on her face.

" _Night_  by Elie Weisel," she told him. "One of the greatest books I've ever read. Sad, heart-breaking, soul crushing, but nevertheless one of the greatest."

He stared down at the dark cover before looking back up at her again.

"Thank you... uh..."

"Eva," she tapped a finger against her nametag that he'd already forgotten about. "And you're welcome."

Bucky kept moving his eyes from the cover to the girl's, Eva's, face. He shoved his left hand in his pocket and held the book to his side in his right.

"Right, so..." he cleared his throat. "I should... probably, uh... get... get going now."

She just smiled again, making Bucky wonder if the girl was ever not smiling. "Alright. Hope you enjoy the book."

He nodded. "Thanks again."

He went to turn the corner and heard Eva say, "See you next time."

He walked away quickly and swiftly down the staircase, heat creeping up his neck and ears. He couldn't tell  _what_  exactly was wrong with him, but he suddenly felt silly for coming here, for leaving the security of his apartment. He could care less about being socially inept; Bucky just wanted to find Steve and leave the goddamn place. It took him a few minutes to find the blond, who had a couple books in his arms. Bucky had to forcefully steer him away from the shelves and towards the checkout area.

It irritated Bucky to watch Steve take his library card out from his wallet as slowly as humanly possible. But Steve was past human, but then so was Bucky. The ex-assassin literally ripped the card out of the super-soldier's hands, sliding the card and scanning each book before Steve had time to blink. He shoved the card back in Steve's hands along with his books. Bucky took the book Eva suggested and gripped it so tightly his fingers threatened to rip through.

"Let's go already," he muttered and took off ahead of Steve.

The Captain sighed and rolled his eyes, walking quickly to catch up to his friend. The books nearly fell out of his arms when he caught the brunet's arm outside of a diner.

"Bucky, talk to me," Steve felt as if the other man was going to throw a sudden punch. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Bucky's head whipped around to glare at him, strands of his hair falling out from the baseball cap; he should really invest in a hair tie.

"Nothing happened. I just feel weird and want to get back to the base."

Steve blew the air out of his mouth before nodding and not questioning Bucky any further. They managed to get back to headquarters before the evening traffic, without the two of them uttering a word to each other. Steve was pulled away from Bucky when Agent Hill caught up to them by handing him a folder on his next mission. He gave Bucky an apologetic look and promised to catch up with him later. The dark haired man sighed to himself, taking the letter and unlocking his apartment.

He threw the book onto the coffee table and fell onto the couch. The clock on the far wall ticked away and once again, Bucky was met with the crushingly empty silence he always faced.


	2. Open Cages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all for the kudos some of you have left me! Keep the love coming, and maybe a comment would be lovely. Anyway, thanks! :)

The sudden ache in his left shoulder, where the metal met the flesh, made the whole left side of Bucky's body crawl. His right hand gripped his shoulder and he gritted his teeth. Every once in a while, his shoulder would explode with sudden spasms of pain. He popped in Tylenol pills without any water. At first he was weary of the painkillers, but when Steve took one himself Bucky decided that it probably wasn't too bad. But he took about eight, which was higher than the recommendation on the bottle for the average person. But then again, Bucky wasn't the average person.

He sat at the kitchen table, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. His tired eyes shifted their gaze around his small home; there were no windows at all, reminding him of the dark rooms Hydra held him in to run experiments and tests on him. Bucky sighed, at least this cage was cleaner and brighter. He thought about what it would be like if he had windows, if it would be brighter than it was at the moment. Then his thoughts drifted to what his past life may have been like, if his life had open windows that weren't forced shut.

There were things that always bothered the former assassin, like if his life was actually somewhat fulfilling before his tragic fall off the train. Bucky wondered about all the things he had left behind, friends, family... they were all gone except for Steve. But even now he barely knew Steve, even though the blond told him everything about him and what Bucky meant to him. Bucky couldn’t feel anything about Steve’s importance and what kind of an aura he had when he was with people that cared for him. It was all the more upsetting when Bucky thought about how Steve still had the ability to get enveloped in wonderful memories while he was stuck with a  cloudy blank. He remembered Steve telling him that before the serum, he'd be the one saving a scrawny Steve from fights, which was hard to believe considering the man is gargantuan. And the other thing Steve had said about him was being rather popular with everyone, especially the women.

That was also hard to believe, because every person who had ever looked at him regarded him with fear. But then Bucky remembered the girl from a few days ago. What was her name?

_Eva_ , he thought, _her name was Eva_.

He remembered that the look he had gotten from her wasn't that of fear, but of surprise. He laughed quietly to himself when he thought about how ridiculous those thick glasses made her eyes look.

Bucky's eyes had drooped without his noticing, and he had started to doze a little. Suddenly he was being strapped to a cracked, leather chair, exposed under a green light. His heart raced and he could hear its beating and the rushing of blood in his eardrums. Men in white stabbed him with syringes and electricity ran through his veins. They were talking loudly, or so it seemed, ignoring his screams. Machines were all around him, whining and spinning and beeping. The metal bonded to his arm sent cold waves of shock through his nerves and down his spine. His eyes darted crazily, searching for a way out but there were no windows and every door was barred and guarded. The voltage fired into his brain, earning more blood curdling screams and his lungs felt as if they were on fire. His eyes squinted through the dull light, and that was when a short, pudgy man's face hovered above him, Arnim Zola. The pain in Bucky's left shoulder became unbearable, and that was when his eyes flew open.

He looked down at his metal arm to see that it had snapped off a piece of wood from the kitchen table from his grip. He brushed the sweat off his brow with his sleeve, breathing in a large gulp of air and then releasing it. He downed a couple cups of water quickly, trying to wash away the metallic taste of blood from his mouth. He had managed to bite his tongue hard enough to draw blood. The clock's ticking grew louder and it started to give him a headache.

Bucky laid face down on the couch, metal arm hanging over the side. It was a quiet day and uneventful as per usual. Most days were like this when he wasn't having his physical. Steve was off on a mission with Natasha and Sam, investigating a possible hidden Hydra base, and wouldn't be back for a few days. Bucky assumed that it was so quiet because Steve wasn't there to talk his ear off.

His heart had clenched up, though, when the blond told him about the possible existing Hydra bases. He had thought they had all either been destroyed or disbanded by now. It made Bucky uneasy and all he could see every time he blinked was him lying in that godawful chair.

“ _Cut off one head, two more shall grow in its place…_ ”

He shook his head and his eyes flickered to the coffee table and focused in on the book he had forgotten about. Bucky reached over and took the book, flipping himself over onto his back. He held it over his head and read the summary on the book, about how it was the true story of a victim in the Holocaust. His hands flipped through the pages back and forth, words blurring into a mess of black lines on white. The pages turned back to the very first page of the chapter. Before he even realized what he was doing, Bucky had already read five chapters.

Minutes turned to hours, and his clock chimed at three o'clock, right when he had read the very last word. He shut the book closed and rested it over his chest, his heart heavy with what he just read in the last few hours. Eva was right, he thought, it _was_ sad and heartbreaking, but it was written very well. The last time he had read a book was... well, of course he couldn't remember when the last time was, assuming that he did read in his past life. He turned the book over in his hands, leaving him with no other activity once again. He drummed his fingers on his chest, staring up at the ceiling like he had done a countless number of times. 

_Night_ had fallen to the floor, which caught Bucky's attention. His hand ran over the front of the cover and wondered when the book was due to be returned. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, putting the book back on the table. He popped his neck and rolled the bones in his shoulders back. The boredom had really set in and Bucky's skin began to itch.

He unthinkingly put his coat on, tying his hair back with a hair tie (he stole it from Natasha) but left his head hat free. He slipped both gloves onto his hand and wrapped a scarf around his neck that Steve had bought him a few days ago because of the cold air outside. With the book in hand, he locked his apartment door and took the elevator up to the ground level.

On the way up, it stopped at the third level and Agent Hill stepped on.

"Barnes," she greeted, clearly surprised to see him. "Where are you going?"

"Out." He just gazed at the wall beside him.

She raised an eyebrow, eyeing him and looking as if she was going to say something but pressed her mouth closed in a firm line. The agent left at the second level and soon enough Bucky had left the base and was walking into town. It was just as lively as it was a few days before and he made sure to avoid the gazes of passersby in hope they didn't recognize him as the best friend of Captain America from the Smithsonian.

He passed by the bakery again, his lungs filled with its aroma. He was almost tempted into turning around and going in for a muffin or brownie, but was held back by the fact that he only had loose change in his pockets and that there were too many people inside.

There were several stores he didn't know about. There was an internet café across the street, and beside it a twenty-four hour diner. A bridal shop was situated beside a Hallmark store, and Bucky wondered what was so special about that store beside all the greeting cards. Out of curiosity, he wanted to peek into every store and look at everyone and everything, wanting to see what the people were like and how it was all done.

Bucky stopped abruptly when he saw a window with kittens at a pet shop. The majority of them were sleeping, except for the two, one orange and the other white, that were playing. He'd seen cats before, but not when they were only some weeks old. His lips almost turned up in a smirk. He had to admit, they were kind of cute. Did he have a cat in his past life? He shook his head; it probably wasn't like him to own the animal.

Bucky came to the library some minutes later and went up the concrete steps. His hand hovered over the door but he hesitated; how'd he even make it this far on his own? The door creaked when he pushed it open, and he was met with the dusty-papyrus air once again. There was a children's section to his left that he hadn't noticed before, and a librarian sat in a chair reading a book to a small group of little kids. He grimaced, he wasn't exactly fond of children. They were always kicking, screaming, or crying because they _always_ wanted _something_. 

When he made it to the top of the stairs, he noticed that there were less people studying than before and that there were a few people looking for something to check out. He was a little more alert than usual and walked down the aisles with caution, as if someone was going to jump out and attack. Bucky followed the signs hanging above him, directing where the checkout, restroom, and return areas were. When he turned a corner, he found the return area; there was a counter and a small office behind it. There was also a door where someone could enter beside it. Bucky was half-expecting an old women to sit behind the counter, but that was where he found the girl from before. She sat on a stool, opening the covers of a large stack of books beside her and stamping the inside. Her glasses sat at the end of her nose like before and her face was scrunched up in concentration.

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and carefully approached the counter. Eva didn't look up and he noticed that one of her ears had an earphone in, and he could hear the music playing. It sounded classical. He cleared his throat quietly which was enough to snap her out of her task. She smiled the same smile from before, eyes all buggy because of the glasses, and shut the book she had just stamped and pulled the earphone out.

"Hey," she removed her glasses. "The guy from last time, right?"

He nodded, sliding the book across the counter. "Finished the book."

"Oh, how'd you like it? It was great, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was." He was telling the truth, too.

Bucky stood there a little awkwardly, hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn't know where to go from there; the only thing he had planned was to return the book but he hadn't figured out the rest after he dropped it off.

"Uh--"

"If you want, I can recommend something else on my wall," Eva suggested before he could say anything.

"O...kay."

She left her seat on her the stool and came out through the door. Bucky followed her over to a large wall covered in posters and upcoming Halloween events. Beside all the layers of papers stapled to the bulletin was a section where all the employees had lists of books they read, and each one was personalized to their liking. Eva's was one of the top at the wall, and her name was decorated with floral print and little cat stickers that were starting to peel off. Her handwriting was messy but still legible on the list she had made.

She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, _Well, this is it._

"So," she said. "Just let me know if you need any help."

"Uh-huh."

He nodded and watched Eva walk away. There was something about her that intrigued him, but Bucky didn't dig into the feeling and stored the thought away. He turned back to the wall and wasn't sure if he was actually going to read a book again. But he had already made it all the way over here and he had nothing to occupy his time with anyway. Eva's list was long, really long. It had more recommendations than all the staff members and there was even an extra piece of paper stapled to the one under it.

"So she reads a lot and wears funny glasses," he mumbled under his breath.

Even Bucky could guess that she was probably one of those kids that often spent their time alone in school or at home. It was sadly obvious. It reminded Bucky of himself and how he was, except he spent his time staring at ceilings instead of reading.

Picking a book by random, Bucky strolled through the aisles, looking up and down in the fiction section. He scratched his chin with his right hand, looking for _Flowers for Algernon_. It sounded a little fruity to him, because of the title, but it was the first one on the list and he couldn't remember what other titles Eva had written. He looked for a while but couldn't locate where it was in the colossal collection of novels and began to grow a bit frustrated. As a trained assassin, he could know all about a person in a second, and if his mission was to retrieve something he'd be able to find it within minutes. This book, however, was harder to find than a needle in a haystack.

With an exasperated sigh, Bucky turned back to where he found Eva, shoulders slumped. He approached her slowly and she looked up at him.

The corner of her lip turned up in a smirk. "Need help?"

He wasn't sure how she knew but he didn't question it. He nodded and she left the counter again.

"What's it called?" She asked as she walked through the fiction section with Bucky a safe distance behind her.

" _Flowers for_... something."

" _Flowers for Algernon_?" He nodded and Eva smiled again. "Oh, so you did look at my list."

He rolled his eyes and almost smiled. "Did you doubt me?"

She turned back and flashed him a toothy grin. "Most people don't, so thanks for looking at it."

"Yeah."

She stopped abruptly at one of the many bookcases and her eyes swooped at every spine of the books until she stood at the tips of her toes and reached for one of the top shelves. Her sweater rose up enough for Bucky to have a long enough glance of snow-white skin. His stomach knotted at the thought of blood staining Eva's skin, making the fingers on his left arm twitch; it took all the willpower in his whole body to beat the thought to the ground.

Eva found the book, which had a mouse and flower on the cover. Just as Bucky was going to take it, her hands snapped out of his reach.

"Before you read this," her face was grave and looked at him with serious eyes. "I have to warn you. This is one of the best books I have ever read and I have literally cried over it a thousand times. I guarantee that you will become so overwhelmed with emotion that this book will be all you think about forever."

Bucky blinked. "I don't cry."

"You'll get really sad."

"I don't get sad, either."

She looked at him for a moment before giving him a soft, tinkling laugh. She handed him the book.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. You'll never be the same."

Bucky rolled his eyes gently as if to say, _Whatever_. Eva left him there to get back to work. He cleared his throat, realizing that this was probably the most he’s ever spoken with to a stranger. He sort of just wandered around for a few minutes before finding a secluded area beside some windows with couches. No one was occupying the area, so Bucky sat down on an old, brown leather couch. He sank so low into it that he had a brief moment of panic, thinking that he was actually going to fall through, but he didn't and he settled in. He took a deep breath in before releasing it and opened up to the first page.

Immediately his first thought after a few pages was that the author must've been illiterate because every word Bucky read was misspelled and looked as if a child was narrating. He didn't realize that it actually had a purpose until he dug in a few chapters later. He failed to see what made Eva love the book so much; he couldn't understand what intrigued her about an obtuse, middle-aged man having surgery to become intelligent.

Bucky swallowed thickly. The man had  surgery _in order to become a different person_. It almost felt as if Bucky was, in a sense, reading about himself. The more he read and saw how the character's new intelligence made him literate, the more Bucky felt a new sense of some kind of understanding. He never was able to understand a person's thoughts or feelings, but as of that moment he felt so close to a fictional person. There was always a point every couple chapters where Bucky wondered if these feelings were legitimate.

The sky grew a little darker without him noticing. It was hard to break his concentration, and every word went from sentence to paragraph to page to the near end of the book. The story just got sadder and Bucky felt his stomach knot at the part where the mouse died (the assassin couldn’t believe he was upset over a mouse) and he had to suck in a breath when the narrator's deranged mother turned him away; he didn't understand why someone was afraid of something a person couldn't change about himself. He understood. He understood what it was like to not have any acceptance or trust and be turned away and given the cold shoulder. He knew how it felt, and the words that were written summed up his pathetic life perfectly.

A voice cleared their throat just as Bucky had finished the last, most powerful sentence in _Flowers for Algernon_.

"Library closes at eight," Eva stopped pushing a cart of fantasy and non-fiction novels.

Bucky rubbed his eyes and shut the book. Every time he blinked, all he saw were words. Eva smirked knowingly.

"Told you."

Bucky turned his face away so she wouldn't be able to see him roll his eyes. But she was right.

"Thanks." He stood up and handed her the book, which she took and placed in the cart.

"Anytime." She gave him her regular, bright smile.

* * *

 Bucky came back the next day. He wasn't sure what compelled him to get off the couch and put clothes on and stroll through the streets of D.C., but here he was reading. If Eva was surprised to see him, she didn't show it; she just gave him a smile.

And as the week had passed, he knocked each book off the list one by one. The more time he spent at the library, the better he had gotten used to exploring public places. The library was a place that wasn't exactly crowded, but he was getting there. Steve seemed to be a little enthusiastic about his friend's newfound activity once he had come back, even though he exactly sure where Bucky disappeared off to.

Eva had become a regular person to see working there. Most of the time when he was looking for a book, she would usually help find it. Eva, too, had also began to get used to see the dark haired man come in and read on the couch; she didn't mind his presence as he didn't mind hers. There were two occasions when she hadn't come in to work, and Bucky was a little curious why she hadn't come in. He actually felt a little out of place because of her absence. He didn’t know why and he didn’t dig any further into it.

The thing Eva had started to like about the man was how he actually took her suggestions. Most of the time when people walked in and out of the library and she'd suggest something, they almost never actually kept to it. The fact that Bucky did take her recommendations made her feel pretty good and acknowledged. It was kind of funny, actually, to see him so focused on reading where he sat on the couch which was claimed as his. At first, he seemed a little awkward, which she still thought he was and vacant of any emotion, but when Eva saw him in his own little world, the guy seemed to brighten up a little.

On one Monday afternoon, Eva was waiting for him to come in, which she knew he would. She sat her counter and grinned when he came walking up, knowing that Bucky was going to ask her for the usual help. He raised his brow, already sensing something from her.

"You've been coming here a lot," she said, locking her hands together.

"Uh--"

"And you always read here on those couches."

Bucky wasn't sure what she was getting at, but he felt a little cautious for some unknown reason. He just nodded and she continued.

"But I don't think I've seen you leave here with a book in your hands."

He wished this could end sooner and be over with. His eyes widened slightly with confusion when Eva slid a plastic card over to him.

"I made you a library card," she gave him a small, and this time shy, smile. "I figured that maybe you didn't have one, so I sort of took it upon myself to make you one. That way, if you maybe want to take one home, you can check it out."

Bucky's eyes swept from the card to Eva and back again. He picked up the card, twirling the piece of plastic within his fingertips. He scoffed softly, a smirk playing on his face. Someone who _wasn't_ Steve actually thought of him. He looked back down at Eva, who held a sharpie pen up to him to write his name on the card.

"I have still yet to learn your name," she pointed out.

He thought to himself for a minute. His name? Most of the people at the base just called him Barnes and Steve called him his usual nickname of Bucky, and then a few amount of people called him by his first name. What did normal people choose? Nickname or first name? He wasn't exactly sure but he wanted to tell her.

He took the pen from her and scribbled his name on the back of the card.

"Bucky... or James." He capped the pen. "Take your pick."

She chewed on her bottom lip in thought, and for some reason Bucky couldn't figure out the shiver that ran down his spine.

"Bucky," she said, trying out how it sounded on her tongue and she grinned. "I like it. James is a bit old fashioned, no offense."

"None taken." Bucky barely gave off the hint of a smile before stuffing the card in his jacket pocket. "Thanks... for the card."

"My pleasure," she pushed back her hair behind her ear. "Just be sure to return everything on time."

The assassin had to hold back a bark of laughter. He was trained to _always_ be on time. Missing a due date would be nothing, but Bucky didn't tell her that.

"So, _Bucky_ ," she grinned at the name. He kind of liked how it sounded when she said it, but he wasn't going to tell her that either. "What're you going to read today?"

"Something called the _Notebook_." He held up a paperback book.

She blinked and was silent for a moment, but then her lips curled up into a grin and she suddenly burst out laughing. Bucky's neck burned and he scowled.

"What?"

Eva waved her hand and took a deep breath to calm herself down.

"You're probably the first guy who I've ever met to actually attempt to read the _Notebook_."

He quirked his brow up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Eva wasn't able to wipe the dumb smirk off her face. "I can't believe you're actually going to read a romance novel read by millions of women, I mean, not that I'm sexist because I think guys can read whatever they want, but a guy like you--" she started to ramble embarrassingly.

"A guy like me?" He wanted her to continue.

She blushed a bit, which was a change for Bucky because he'd never seen so much color in her pale complexion.

"Well, you seem like one of those guys that like horror novels or something, like Stephen King books. It's kind of funny to see you read something so feminine."

He blinked. "I've never read Stephen King."

She smiled. "You're missing out."

He couldn't help but give her a small, crooked smile. He held up the romance novel to look at it.

"Romance, huh?"

He couldn't imagine himself, an ex-assassin credited with more than two dozen assassinations, reading a sappy love story. But he was going to do it anyway.

"You should watch the movie after you finish it," Eva told him. "The film’s soundtrack makes you cry twice as hard."

"You seem to have cried for every book you have ever read."

She shrugged. "What can I say? I like something that moves me."


	3. The Ice is Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who commented and bookmarked this! And thanks for all the kudos and keep those coming!!! This one is for you :)

"Where were you yesterday?"

Steve watched his friend sit at the kitchen table, bent over a book which his whole face had disappeared into. A stack of books rested by the ex-assassin's head. Bucky didn't even so much as look at him since his eyes were transfixed onto the page. That’s all he had been doing for the past week and half, reading or disappearing to God knows where. It drove the Captain mad with curiosity.

"Out," he grunted in response.

"Where?" Natasha was lounging on the loveseat, legs dangling off the side lazily.

"No where."

"You have books, so either you went to the library or mugged a poor little nerd."

Steve laughed and nodded to what the agent was saying.  Bucky looked up and scowled at the woman.

"You caught me," he retorted with a snarky tone.

Natasha left her spot and quietly walked up behind him (a skill every trained assassin had) and snatched the book out his hands. He reacted by making an alarmed, irritated noise of protest. At least he remembered what page he was on. If he could, he’d grab Natasha by the hair and throw into a wall, but then if he actually did then Fury would get on his case. The red head let out a laugh in disbelief.

" _The Notebook_?" She asked incredulously. "You're kidding me?"

Bucky gritted his teeth. "Is there a law that prohibits me from reading it? Because if there is, don't hold back in telling me!" He barked out his sarcastic remark.

She chuckled to herself. "Alright, princess," she held out the novel to him, which he snatched it roughly out if her hands. "Don't get so upset."

Bucky glared at her. "Заткнись и оставь меня в покое, Романов," he spat out in Russian.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, replying back in the foreign tongue. “Сделайте мне, принцесса."

If the agent made a list describing all of her favorite pass times, pushing the former assassin's buttons would definitely be on it. Steve watched the two with mild amusement before stepping in to make sure they didn't rip each others' throats out. Bucky resumed his reading and went back to the place he was interrupted at.  Natasha was back at her original spot on the loveseat.

Steve and Natasha were very curious to Bucky’s abnormal behavior. They were so used to him being withdrawn and keeping to himself like he normally would. He wasn’t against his friend’s actions for up and leaving the apartment a lot more than usual, but Steve couldn’t help wonder what Bucky was doing. He hoped to God that it wasn’t something illegal, not that he doubted Bucky, but one did wonder. The brunet’s reading habit was a little out of hand though; Steve would come to the apartment and find an alarming stack of books on the table, and Bucky would be able to read all of them in a span of two days and come back with a new stack. It was rather suspicious, because for as long Steve had known Bucky, he had never, not even once, picked up a book. Not even before the War.

It wasn’t just that, but Bucky seemed to appear slightly different. Only slightly. Like there was a newer air to him that Steve just couldn’t his finger on.

He wasn’t complaining, though.

Steve swallowed the bitter tang of his health shake and washed out the glass.

"But seriously," the blond sat across from Bucky and broke the silence. "Why are you reading all the time now?"

Bucky flipped to the next page without looking up. "Because I want to."

"You want to?" Natasha questioned, wondering if he was telling the truth or if she could actually see a way through the cracks of his bullshit.

He grumbled to himself, muttering how even in the quiet of his home there could never be peace.

"Can't a man have new hobbies?" He snapped, banging a metal fist against the table in agitation. Steve winced; he bought that table for him at such a high expense. It already pained him to see the missing piece Bucky broke off.

Natasha came up and bent down to his eye level where he sat. She squinted her eyes, peering into his eyes and Bucky felt as if her icy gaze was suffocating his soul, that is if he did have one. He fidgeted in his chair, growing extremely uncomfortable. Making people uncomfortable was all apart of the deal of being an acquaintance to Natasha Romanov. She hummed to herself, tapping her finger to her chin.

Bucky sent a look over to Steve that pretty much screamed, _Help me._

"There's a girl," Natasha grinned, a glint shining in her eyes that made Bucky want to kill the woman all of a sudden. "Isn't there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said to her in the most monotonous voice that accompanied the straightest face.

"Yes, there is," she crossed her arms, letting him know that she wasn't about to let this go.

"You're mistaken."

"Don't play dumb with me."

"You're entering dangerous territory."

"What's her name?"

“There’s no girl.”

“What does she look like?”

“ _I’ll kill you._ ”

“Do you like her?”

"I'm not telling you."

"So there _is_ a girl."

Bucky groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance. He shut the book closed and put his head in his hands, thinking off all the ways he could dispose of the agent. This was so completely immature and suddenly he was sucked into the hurricane that was Natasha Romanov.

"Seriously, Buck," Steve said with a big annoying grin on his face. Bucky decided that once he killed Natasha, Steve would be next. "You're reading because of a girl?"

"No," He stressed his disagreement out. "I actually do enjoy reading books. I'm... _I like the library_."

"Wow, you actually like something," Natasha snorted.

He turned to her. "Is that such a crime?"

She ignored the question and asked him, "Does she work at the library?" Bucky didn't answer. "A librarian, huh? Kinky."

"Okay, this conversation is over."

Bucky stood up and grabbed his coat and scarf and gloves. With his book in hand, he made his way towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Steve frowned.

"Out."

"Aw, come on, Buck..." the blond sighed in defeat.

"Use protection!" Natasha’s laugh followed him before the door slammed shut.

* * *

He didn't know exactly where he was going but Bucky ended up finding himself in front of the library. The door was locked, though, when he tried to pull on it. He sighed and remembered that today was Sunday; libraries were closed early on that day.

He groaned, turning on his heel and walked. He was just wandering aimlessly for a while through the streets of D.C. and saw a lot more the city than he normally did. He was so used to the street he took to the library that he almost felt as if he was in a another city. There were a lot more townhomes and shops and restaurants, but a lot less people were out at this time. Cars were parked by meters and a group of teenagers crossed the street, laughing and talking in loud, obnoxious voices that made Bucky's insides crawl.

He felt the breeze pick up and it whipped the strands on his head around his face. He wished he hadn't forgotten to tie his hair up. The bitter cold of the breeze made his ears and nose go red. He could feel the metal of his arm go cold, but he wasn’t completely bothered by it. He was warm for the most part, and his annoyance towards the Natasha and Steve fueled his agitation. He also realized that that was the most he had ever spoken in long time with the two, but it still contained the fiery will to destroy. They were complete boneheads, he thought to himself. Thinking about them pestering him made Bucky scowl, which caused him to receive troubled looks from some of the people that walked past him.

The sky overhead turned a hazy orange and pink and the breeze lessened. Bucky found a bench that was by a tree planted in front of a office supply store. He sat down and rested his legs; he was seriously out of shape when he realized how much his feet hurt. He thought about maybe taking up that offer on running in the morning from Steve and Sam. As the cars sped by on the street, Bucky went back to the _Notebook_ and continued where he left off. He tried not to frown when he read the last few chapters. He wasn’t very big on romance, but it was a good book. The difficult thing about reading it was how he wasn’t able to connect at all to the characters. He thought about why it that was, but maybe it wasn’t because he didn’t exactly feel love like the characters did. The idea of love seemed fictional and rather childish. He did like the book, but… it seemed like the idea was just a useless dream for thousands of people.

But what did he know? His memory was wiped so many times that he doesn’t even know how to be or act cheerful.

He shut the book and sighed, resting his head against the back of the bench. He listened to the sounds around him, the cars driving by, people talking, birds chirping. It all surrounded him. But then there was a new sound that popped the bubble he had.

“Bucky?” He looked up and saw Eva standing there. She held a bag of bread in arms. A smile grew on her face. “Hi.”

His lips twitched up into a small smile. “Hi.”

Her eyes swept down to the book resting beside him. “So is it a yay or nay?”

“What?” He blinked, not familiar with the saying.

She laughed. “Did you like it or not?”

He shrugged. “I liked it but… I don’t know.”

“You should watch the movie,” she said. “It’s really good.”

“Believe it when I see it.”

Her normally pale face was tinted with red from the cold, and she sniffed every now and then. The last week of October was usually cold. His mouth moved faster than his brain could comprehend all of a sudden.

"Do you want to get a coffee?" His face burned not from the cold but from embarrassment. It wasn't even like him to ask such things, let alone to people that weren’t Steve.

 _Shit_ , he thought. Not only that but he sounded so forward. Embarrassment was something he had a hard time registering and he had only been embarrassed once and it was _this very moment_. Along with his embarrassment came his confusion when her face had lit up.

"Yeah, sure," she nodded. "It is cold, isn't it?"

He gave her a short nod in response.

"I know a great coffeehouse a block away," Eva pointed in a certain direction. "Want to pop over there?"

He nodded again. He realized how much he was nodding and decided he should just stop doing that for a while.

"Yeah." He stood up, book in hand, and he started to walk alongside of the petite girl.

It was weird. It was _really_ weird to be walking with her like this in public. It was a change to see Eva not working at the library and doing everyday regular things that regular citizens do. It was even weirder that he was actually participating in regular civilian activities. Bucky wondered if this was what it felt like to be normal, but he had yet to learn. It couldn't be normal when he constantly felt the Winter Soldier raging within his mind. And how could a normal person be a super-soldier with a metal arm?

It was the silence that made Bucky feel strange. He couldn't tell what Eva was thinking; he was good at reading faces but behind all the smiles she gave him, Bucky had a hard time seeing the type of person she is. As far as he knew, she was extremely nice and cried a lot over literature. He could tell that she was an intelligent human being, too.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. She wasn't wearing a hat or gloves, just a coat. Her nose was pink and her eyes were glossy from the frigid air. Eva wasn't wearing her glasses, but he assumed they were tucked away in her purse.

They came to a small little coffeehouse with an awning and some potted trees. Bucky held the door open for her and went inside and his nose was met with the strong aroma of coffee beans. It was weird to see all these people sitting around, most of them being college students and hipsters (Natasha explained to him what a hipster was). Bucky was glad to have that wadded ten dollar bill in his pocket.

Eva ordered a cappuccino and was about to give the cashier her debit card when Bucky's hand beat her to it.

"I'll pay," he said quietly. He knew he had to, considering it was common courtesy.

She turned to him and shook her head. "Oh, no, you don't need to--"

"I insist," he gave her that awkward little smile that suddenly felt a bit natural to him.

His mind flashed to Natasha and that stupid knowing look she always had on her face. He felt his scowl coming back and he pushed it back down. With their coffee in hand they sat at a table near the window; Bucky felt relieved that it had a view of the whole coffeehouse and was close to the door.

Eva took a sip and cradled the cup in her hands.

"Thanks," she smiled gratefully.

He ran a hand through his hair. "It's no trouble."

They took a drank from their coffee to fill some of the silence.

"I have to repay you for all those books anyway," he added with the small smirk on his lips.

She laughed softly. "Coffee is a good payment."

When Bucky laughed, he felt different, as if a ghost had somehow possessed him and its laugh made its way through Bucky’s mouth. It made his stomach twist and he could feel his sudden anxiety rise up. The wall he had was shaking and he couldn't hold it up. The ugly  little voice inside of him begged him to hold it up before it could crumble down. He sighed internally; he’d keep the wall up for as long as he would be able to.

“Bucky?” He snapped his eyes up to Eva’s hand that waved in front of his face.

“Oh, sorry... yes?”

She smiled. “Looks like I almost lost you there. You looked a little out of it.”

He gave a her a look that said he was okay. “It’s been a long day.”

“Tell me about it.” She took a sip of her cappuccino; Bucky’s coffee was already done. “I’m glad it’s Sunday, I needed a short work day.”

“So you can get bread?” He nodded towards the paper bag. Small talk with Eva was getting easier by the day.

She chuckled. “Well, I like bread.”

Bucky was baffled by how she just couldn’t stop smiling or laughing. He’d never met anyone so cheerful. How could anyone be so happy, he had thought to himself. The world was so barbaric and so many bad people, like Hydra, existed; the helicarrier incident made thousands so melancholy, but this girl, Eva, was sitting in front of him and just _smiling_. Bucky’s apathy was carved so deep into him, he didn’t think there was any way that a simple token of happiness could bury all the darkness inside him.

“So, what do you do when you’re not at the library?” Eva rested her head on her hands.

Bucky chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. “Nothing, really.”

It was the truth, too. He literally did _nothing_. The only thing he did besides nothing was breathe and get enveloped in his daily self loathing. It was that or lie awake at night in fear of falling asleep. His days were just beyond depressing, but he couldn’t tell her that; so he gave her his best sensible answer.

“Nothing, huh?” The corner of lip perked up. “So, you just read books all day?”

“Yeah.” Eva laughed quietly at his answer. If only she knew that Bucky wasn’t joking.

“What do you do all day, then?” Bucky decided to put her in the spotlight instead of him.

She finished the last of her coffee but still held the cup in her hands. “Me? I study."

"You're a student?"

She nodded. "Studying to become a nurse."  

"Oh, cool." Was that what people say nowadays? Cool?

"It's nothing special, really," she had a distant look in her usually bright eyes as she spoke.

"Why? Nursing is important isn't it?" He should really keep out of another's business, he realized.

Eva ran a hand through her short hair. "I don't know, I mean, I want to help people, but it's not like I'm saving the world."

He frowned a little. "A small impact makes a great difference."

Eva smiled a little. "Did you think of that yourself?"

"What? Do I look like a dimwit?"

"On the contrary," she said. "You seem pretty intelligent."

He snorted quietly out of amusement. "Same to you."

"You know now I have to make a new list," she said after a while. "You've pretty knocked every book off."

"Sorry."

"No, it's great actually. I don't think anyone's taken anything I've said seriously before."

"Why would they not?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes people hear you, but they're actually not listening at all. Hear me, but don't see me."

The way she said it was unsettling for Bucky. She was good at switching subjects though.

"So, tell me about yourself," she leaned over. "Who is Bucky?"

He swallowed thickly. He was the Winter Soldier. If he told her that she'd up and leave, throwing her bread at him in fear. But it was a psychological question: who was he? Bucky didn't know the answer to the question. He was two things, James and Winter Soldier, but Bucky was so much closer to his violent side, the soldier side. James was slipping away into the shadows and was so close to being forgotten. He was only one thing at the moment and felt that it was the one thing that made him who he was. And that was being Bucky.

"I'm... Bucky," he said, trying to show some sanity. "Just Bucky."

"I mean your hobbies," she laughed. "What do you do for fun?"

"I dont know." Bucky shrugged, not really thinking. "I'm sort of forced into things by Steve..."

"Steve?"

Bucky internally groaned. He was suddenly spilling out details to Eva and the wall he had was teetering. But he felt almost compelled to tell her something, _anything_. What was he going to say though? Steve aka Captain America was his friend? Bucky's mind felt like it was going to melt through his ears.

"My... my friend."

She nodded slowly and hummed in thought. "Okay, so then do you work when you're not at the library?"

_God, this girl is observant._

"Currently unemployed," he chose his words carefully.

"Oh, why?"

"There was an... um... accident."

"Were you hurt?" Eva face suddenly clouded with concern.

"You could say that." The tension in his stomach and throat was clawing at him.

"Sorry about that," she frowned. For some reason he didn't like how she looked when she frowned; he was already used to the cheerful side.

Bucky waved his hand. "It's nothing."

"Maybe if you'd like, and this just a suggestion, I can get you a job at the library."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Immediately his first thought was how could it even be possible for people like Eva to exist? How could anyone just be so... so nice? The girl barely knew him. Even if Bucky did accept Eva's offer, he probably would lose his patience and end up destroying everything from frustration. "I think I'll manage."

He hoped to whatever power on Earth that he would be able to manage.

The sky had darkened and the last sunlight of the day disappeared. Without realizing it they had stayed for a long time, but to Bucky it had only felt like a few minutes. They both realized that it was time to call it a day and stood outside of the coffeehouse, but he wasn't sure how to exactly call it a day. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted the day to end.

"So..."

"So, I'll see you tomorrow then?" Eva looked at him.

He nodded. "Tomorrow."

Her eyes sparkled and she nodded too. "Alright then, goodbye, Bucky."

She waved at him and started walking in the opposite direction he was taking. He sort of stood there, watching her walk away from him. The gears in his brain suddenly clicked and he quickly went inside the coffeehouse to pick something off the floor and return outside. Eva hadn't turned the corner yet and Bucky found himself running to her without realizing it. Within feet of her, he called out.

"Eva!" She turned around, brows raised. He slowed down to a jog and then to a complete stop. Buck held out the bag of bread to her. "You forgot this."

Her face lit up and took the bag. "Oh! Thank you, Bucky."

He had a ghost of a smile on his face. He turned on his heel and was about to say goodbye when Eva spoke up.

"Bucky?"

He turned around. "Yes?"

"We should hang out again."

Bucky's stomach felt like it was going to crawl out onto the street and for some reason, he was fine with that.

"Alright."

Eva gave him one last smile before saying goodbye again. Bucky walked down the street and back to the base, all the while thinking of what Eva had said. He felt weird, like the feeling was interfering with his usual behavior. It was strange that she would want to 'hang out' with him, of all people. With one look, anyone could tell he was a complete disaster. But not her, not Eva. The way she walked and talked with him felt like... like she considered him to be human.

So that was what he was feeling, he realized. He was feeling human. If human felt like throwing up, then sure. It came to him that not once did he speak or feel with any apathy towards Eva. It was a strange feeling but without noticing his body and mind had somehow succumbed to it. Now he really felt like his stomach was going to crawl out onto the street.

He couldn't yet decipher what was going on within his system, but Bucky somehow felt lighter than he'd ever been. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it was all because of the girl with the silly glasses. The feeling was foreign and the Winter Soldier part of him felt aggravated, but Bucky was trying to hold onto the feeling before it could slip away, trying understand it. In the mess of his life, this was the only good thing that had come of it. It felt silly, the desperation to hold on to something Bucky could not fully understand yet.

It was like trying to capture smoke with his bare, raw hands.

“Stupid,” he scolded himself once he got in the elevator. Bucky’s thoughts were all over the place on the way back to the base. “So stupid.”

Steve and Natasha weren’t in his apartment when he walked in, much to his own relief. He didn’t think he could last another second with the fiery redhead in the room. He dropped himself onto the couch with a great sigh. He rested the back of his head against the soft cushioning and clutched his chest, directly over his heart. From time to time, he did that. Just lay his hand over his heart. Sometimes it was to reassure Bucky that he was still alive after all that had happened in the last year, that he wasn’t being frozen in time. Or that he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, just Bucky, and that his heart beat was actually real. It reminded him that he wasn’t a machine anymore, wasn’t a weapon. But he couldn’t say that his heartbeat made him feel human. He couldn’t say that he was human in any nature, with the reminder of all he had done, of all the murders. Eva’s face flashed across his mind and he panicked when he felt the pace beat quickly beneath his palm. It felt like it was going to jump straight out of his chest. He clenched the spot where his heart was and shut his eyes tightly, feeling like he was going to burst from the pressure surrounding his head and ribs. It hadn’t beat this fast since the first night at S.H.I.E.L.D., when he had his first nightmare. But this was a different type of fast-pace heart beat.

If only Bucky knew how or why his heart felt like it was going to rip through his chest.

When his heart beat settled down, Bucky looked over his apartment with tired eyes. He’d be passed out by now, but his cowardice held him back. Even if he did succumb to his exhaustion, he wouldn’t feel rested because of the constant restlessness that came with the traumatic memories or nightmares. When his eyes skimmed over everything, he felt like the small confines of his so-called home were much too large for him. It was packed with useless furniture, yes, but Bucky suddenly felt as if he had shrunk down to the size of a mouse. The apartment was a whole new world to him, and everything was suddenly towering over him; it was like it all threatened to collapse and crush him. The apartment seemed so big, yet it was small enough for a single person to live in.

Even if that were true, no one could deny the feeling of loneliness that hung in the air. And that was the burden Bucky was forced to bear. The crushing loneliness.

 


	4. Just Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments! And updating will probably take longer since I've just started school today, so I apologize in advance. Thanks for the kudos! :)

 

Steve sighed heavily once he had read over the details for his latest assignment. Agent Hill had asked him to come look over the newer assignments in her office. He buried his face in his hands, gradually running them up and through his cropped hair. It always unnerved him to receive distressing missions, but that was why Steve was counted on to complete the grotesque tasks. And he was always capable of getting it done cleanly, quickly, and efficiently. But then again, the Captain wasn’t always able to keep his head on straight when coming face to face with the enemy. He was always briefly reminded of himself as pre-serum Steve, the one that just detested bullies and didn’t think that anyone really deserved to die.

That’s all they were, just bullies. Bullies with machine guns.

The problem at hand, though, was Hydra. The rumors of a base hidden somewhere in the world was stressful. He couldn’t imagine what Bucky must be thinking or feeling. Bucky knew of the few bases that were left, but wasn’t aware that there was something bigger, something a whole lot more dangerous at bay. It was at his friend’s best interests for Steve to keep it hidden for now. If Bucky were to suddenly snap if the information leaked out to him, then Steve would have to keep the former assassin as far away as possible.

Fury wasn’t exactly being that big of a help, either. The man still held a grudge against Bucky for killing-- well, trying to kill-- him.

“As long as Hydra doesn’t find him, then I won’t be all that concerned,” Fury’s words echoed through Steve’s head.

“But what happens if they do?” Steve argued. “What if he loses it?”

Fury didn’t let any expression faze him. “He’s a grown man. He’ll know how to deal with them. Our priority is just running them out and getting our hands on any information we’ve missed.”

“He’s a mess, Nick,” Steve clenched his fists. “He’s--”

“Your friend. Yeah, I got that.”

The more Steve  thought about the conversation and Hydra, the more he realized it was kind of a stupid idea to keep something this important from Bucky. The man had every right to know, especially when Hydra had already taken so much from the brunet.

Steve tucked the file under his arm, the thoughts creating a storm in his head as he left Agent Hill’s office.

* * *

Bucky’s legs felt like jello when he sat down after getting off the treadmill. Sweat stained his clothes and he ran a hand through his matted, mess of hair. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gym was a place Bucky visited from time to time (really only three times since he got there) and was the only other place he didn’t mind visiting. It was equipped well, with a punching bag, weights, treadmills, the whole deal. A lot of training went on here for the newer agents, but today it was almost empty. Working out was an activity that distracted Bucky from everything, so he could focus on the burn and strain of his muscles. He literally ran forty miles on the treadmill without stopping, physically exerting himself until he almost fell off because of the fatigue. He didn’t realize how out of shape he was until his calf muscles began to burn.

At least his combat fighting was still rather exquisite.

He wiped his sweaty brow with a towel and wrapped it around his neck. Flexing his arms, he stood back up and left the gym. He took a quick shower and dressed in his regular civilian clothes. He automatically knew that he was going to the library without a second thought. Bucky made sure to stuff his wallet and keys in his pocket before leaving for the elevator. Just as he tied his hair back, the elevator stopped to open and Steve stepped in.

“Bucky,” his friend looked happy to see him. “Glad I caught you. There’s something I want to discuss.”

When Bucky didn’t say anything, he continued. “What do you think of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Bucky arched his brow. “They’re… alright, I suppose. Minus the fact that they _held me face down to the floor_.”

Steve grimaced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were going to do that.”

The two of them were silent for a while until the blond spoke up again.

“I want you to start coming with me on missions.”

Bucky snapped his neck to look at him. His eyes were the size of disks and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline from surprise.

"You know everything about Hydra, Bucky, and we need you--"

"You're asking the wrong person, Steve."

"We're getting no where here, Buck, we got to hit them while they're at their weakest. I know you want them gone more than anyone else does."

Bucky chewed his lip, looking past Steve's head at the wall. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand. The elevator stopped at the main level of entry, and Bucky took a step out. He tilted his head to the side, not quite meeting Steve's eyes.

"I'll think about it."

* * *

 

"... but it's not that he's full of himself, he's just a lost soul. Holden just doesn't know how to deal with all that's hurt him. All the loneliness and façades he puts on is..."

Bucky had never seen Eva's lips move so fast. He almost expected her to pass out from the lack of breathing she was doing. But he was slightly amazed at how much she really liked the Catcher in the Rye.

"I can't believe you think that he just likes attention," she scoffed.

"I didn't say that," Bucky simply said. "I just said that he draws too much attention to himself."

She looked like she was going to argue, but rolled her eyes instead.

"Just give me the book so I can put it away," Eva tried to give him her best stern look, but the smile instantly took over.

Bucky watched her stamp the book and put it in the cart. Day by day, he learned a new thing everyday about her. Like when she was focused, her nose would scrunch up in the most peculiar way. Or when no one was looking she'd quote lines from Shakespeare to herself. It was all the things on the surface he'd noticed. But the things Eva kept on the inside were yet to reveal itself.

"Are you going to start that list soon?" He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. Since when did he become so casual?

"You've read every single one?" She raised her eyebrows In surprise.

"Yeah."

"I've got to say, I'm impressed."

"Do I get a reward?"

"If you give me five minutes, I can make one out of paperclips and tape."

Bucky's lips turned up in the smallest of smiles. Eva tucked some hair behind her ear and left the counter, pulling the cart behind her.

"I guess this means I need to make a new list soon." she said, putting books back in their rightful places. "I feel like you're going to go insane without it."

"I wouldn't say I'd lose sanity. Maybe just die from boredom."

Bucky followed close behind, assisting her with the busy work and putting books back on the higher shelves when she couldn't reach.

"You sure you don't want a job here?" Eva asked again. "I think we need someone tall around here."

He shook his head. "I'm sure but thanks."

"Offer is always open."

He rolled his eyes a bit. Steve's voice filled his head again and we wondered what would happen if he had said yes to the missions. Fury probably wouldn't be on board with the idea and just send the assassin to sit on his ass and sharpen pencils. It sent him wracking with shivers, however, when he thought about being on a mission again. If he were in combat or faced Hydra again, he'd probably snap and kill everyone. He'd kill Steve. His eyes flickered down at Eva. She was young, early twenties. And she wanted to be a nurse. She had ambitions, goals, likes and dislikes. If Bucky were to be taken over by the soldier, would he target this woman?

"Bucky?"

He shook the thoughts out of his head. "What?"

"Are you okay? I don't know, you sort of out of it for a bit... were you listening to me?"

"Sorry, I was thinking." He rubbed the back of his neck. "What were you saying?"

"I wanted to know if you'd like to go to a book signing with me," she leaned against the cart. "Kelly Keaton is going to be at the Barnes and Nobles this Saturday."

Bucky felt all his organs drop to his feet. Was she asking to hang out with him? It was like when they got coffee a few days ago all over again. He was going to heave into a waste basket beside a bookcase from his built up anxiety. Why he felt like this, he hadn’t the slightest clue. What was going on with him? He swallowed the lump in his throat and managed to stare down at Eva’s expectant face. God, why did she look at him like that? Like he was just a normal person? There was a war going on in his head, and all this was was just a simple ‘no’ or ‘yes’ question. So then why did he feel like he was bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders?

And there his mouth went again, opening without him even realizing it.

“Sure.”

“Really?”

There was no going back now.

“Yes, I’ll go with you.”

She flashed him a genuine grin. “Excellent. I’ll text you where to meet up.”

What the hell was he doing? Was he actually going to go to this… this… whatever she said. Bucky felt like he had just dug his own grave and it just got deeper and deeper with all the self doubt and awkwardness.

“I… don’t have a phone.”

She turned back to him with a surprised look, and Bucky felt himself shrink down. Not literally, but it felt like it. Of course she’d look at him like that. Who didn’t have a phone in this century. Even Steve had a phone, despite the fact it was one of those prepaid flip ones instead of the fancy smartphones that Natasha had.

“You’re the first adult I know to not own a cellular device,” she started to laugh quietly. “I’ll write it down for you, instead.”

He felt like he couldn’t stop nodding; his head was going to fall off soon.

“Th… thanks.”

“I’m just so excited,” she gushed, her entire face lighting up at the thought. “I’m a huge fan of Kelly Keaton. God, to meet her would be amazing. And she’s one of the newer authors, and usually I’m not particularly impressed with the newer authors that have books published because their writing and plots and characters are just so predictable, you know? But not her, oh no. Her style is just fantastic and A Beautiful Evil had just the right amount of everything I could like in a book. I mean the romance, the greek mythology, a heroine with a mysterious past who just so happens to be amazing with a gun… it’s incredible and I’m just so envious of the main character because I’d love that kind of life, except, well, minus the constant attempts of getting killed by an evil greek goddess but that’s...oh.”

Eva stopped short, looking up at Bucky with an apologetic expression. He just stared at her with slight awe. She really liked this book.

“Sorry,” she pushed the short strands of hair away from her face. “I tend to get carried away.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky gave her a reassuring smile. “Besides, it’s nice to hear you talk about something you like.”

A blush crept her cheeks and she twisted the pieces of hair by her forehead, avoiding his gaze. Bucky was hit with what he had just said, and wondered if that was the wrong or right thing to say. He could feel the nauseating embarrassment and questioned if he had sounded creepy. God, it probably was creepy of him.

“Just remind me when I need to breathe,” she shot him a smirk.

* * *

Later in the evening, Bucky went to Steve’s apartment. He’d only been there twice; once when he shot Nick Fury and the other when Steve brought him over to clean up and give him new clothes. Sharon Carter had moved out a long time ago and lived in a different apartment building when she joined the CIA. Sam and Natasha were there, too, unfortunately; it was frustrating to be in the same room as Natasha for all known reasons, and the fact that Bucky had destroyed Sam’s car and wings made him feel like a deer in the headlights.

Every now and then Steve wanted to do a little get together at his place, and now that Bucky was allowed to leave the base, Steve invited him over with no time to waste. They all sat around the small kitchen table eating takeout and making light conversation. Bucky, of course, sat silent and ate quietly. At least the positive thing that came out of this was that he’s not all that tense like he usually was. He was getting comfortable to this, to being around people. Even though every person in the room was someone he had tried to kill.

But all of that was just history now.

However, the three friends could tell that the air around the assassin was thick and unusual. The way he ate--well, picked at, really-- his food and the constant staring off into space raised suspicion. Bucky’s face was vacant of any expression; even his regular scowl was replaced with something unknown and alien to the three. Steve was courteous enough not to pry, Sam kept his distance and was more interested in his pan noodles, but nothing could’ve been said the same for Natasha, who chewed on her chopstick with irritation as she stared holes into Bucky’s side.

The woman set her box of rice down roughly onto the table, a grumpy sigh being exhaled out her mouth.

“You’re hiding something,” she said to Bucky, and Steve and Sam turned to stare at them in the midst of their conversation.

Bucky looked at her with the mother of all emptiest expressions. He looked like a statue. An irritated, cranky, exhausted statue.

“Do you take joy in annoying me, Romanov?” Bucky stared her down in such a way that it literally made the other two men uneasy. Natasha was simply unfazed.

“Come on, Barnes,” she tried to use her sweetest voice. “You know you can never keep anything from me. And I know everything.”

“I thought you said ‘you only act like you know everything’?” Steve quoted her from a long a time.

She threw a dirty, wadded napkin at the blond. Sam muttered into his noodles, talking to himself about how all he wanted was a nice evening. Bucky chewed on his lip and scowled before turning back to Natasha.

“If I tell you, will you drop it and never speak of this again?”

“Promise.” She crossed her heart.

Bucky took an intake of air before letting it out, shutting his eyes for a moment and then looking up a minute later.

“She wants me to go to a book signing with her,” he muttered into his box of lo mein.

When he said it out loud, it made it all the more real. Like it wasn’t a figment of his imagination and that someone actually considered him. Someone actually wanted a person like Bucky around to do something. It made Bucky’s insides twist and turn with his constant anxiety and he set the box down to clench his fists in his lap.

“Wait… seriously?” Natasha gave him an incredulous look. “What did you say?”

“Man,” Sam gaped with a look of disbelief etched on his face. “You’re hooking up already? The girl at the front desk _still_ won’t go out with me!”

“This is good news,” Steve grinned.

“What did you say?” Natasha asked him again, eager to know every detail.

Bucky groaned, rubbing his face with his hands and staying like that. “I said ‘yes’.”

He ran his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time that day and stared at the wood of the table. His heart was already beating erratically at the thought and the voice at the back of his head was convinced of all of the number of ways it could all go wrong.

“Shouldn’t you be stoked?” Sam asked, eyeing him warily. “You look like you’re about to die.”

“I _am_ about to die,” the assassin looked up with a hint of despair in his eyes. “I don’t even know why I agreed to it. It… _it just happened_.”

“So you agreed to a date without thinking about it?” the woman peered at him.

Bucky looked at her with a frown. “It’s not a date.”

“Sure sounds like a date. And shouldn’t you be the one asking her instead of the other way around?”

“It’s not a date! And it’s not like that, dammit. We’re…”

“You’re what? Friends? I’ve heard that one a thousand times.”

“We’re…” Bucky his furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought. “I don’t know what we are. I don’t know if she considers me anything close to a friend; we barely even know each other.”

“Then get to know her, Buck,” Steve said gently. “I think this might actually be good for you, befriending someone who’s not, you know, us. Could be healthy.”

Bucky stared at the blond, trying to understand what he was saying. He shook his head and pressed the palm of his right hand against his eye.

“Eva would just leave anyway in the end…” he breathed out quietly, but of course they all heard him. It didn’t take a genius to understand why he said that. His fears were obvious; he was afraid of the Winter Soldier coming back to control his mind.

“Eva, huh?” Natasha leaned her head against her hand. “Pretty name. When will we meet this Eva?”

That seemed to pull Bucky out of his self loathing and he glared at her. “Never. You’ll never meet her.”

She held her hands up in surrender. “Jeez, calm down. It’s not like I’m going to track her down and question her.”

Bucky gave her a look that said, _You better not or else I’ll rip your eyes out._

* * *

 

Bucky left Steve’s an hour or so later, feeling sluggish and he had a migraine. He rested on his bed for a while, lying in the eerie darkness. There was barely any sound except for his breathing and the ticking of the clock. Since that conversation, Bucky felt like total crap and he swore to God that he probably had hundreds of ulcers; even if that were the case, they would’ve healed in minutes due to the serum coursing through his veins. He wondered if the serum could repair the loose screw he had inside his brain.

It was obvious that the gears turning in his head were thinking of Eva. He had to snort to himself; he felt and even sounded childish. But she was still invading the mess of his head. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself--counting the minutes, staring at his metal hand, summarizing every book in his head-- Bucky would just drift back to the girl. And frankly it was slightly alarming and frightening. There was no explanation as to why this was, and it bothered him. He had nothing against her, but of what importance was it that made it so hard for her not to be thought of. There was also the bubble of nervousness attacking his stomach when he remembered about Saturday. He thrashed around on his bed, trying to rid himself of the feeling but to no avail.

A thousand things could go wrong, and it all had to do with possibility of Bucky suddenly losing it to his social anxiety and attacking everyone. He imagined him holding Eva by the throat while she struggled for air, his metal fingers crushing her windpipe. A cold shiver ran down his spine and he wished he could've said no. He could've called it off and everything would be just fine. But Eva looked just so happy. He couldn't rid his mind of her sparkling eyes and happy smile when he said yes. Eva looked like she didn’t want to go alone. And Bucky really didn't want to take away all that excitement from her.

Oh, God, when did he become so soft?

Bucky wondered why she asked him though. Of all the people in the world, why did she ask him? Surely she had other friends to ask, people that would share the same enthusiasm she had. Bucky frowned to himself. What if... what if Eva didn't have anyone to ask? What if she didn't have any friends? She must've been lonely enough to resort to him. Bucky's stomach lurched with worry.

Worry. He had only experienced this feeling once when he had went to the Smithsonian for the first time he had gazed at his past self. But this feeling of worry didn't settle with him and he twisted uncomfortably on his bed.

Was he actually worried about Eva? About her being lonely? Bucky was used to loneliness, so it was nothing new to him; but the thought of Eva being lonely was unsettling.

If only Bucky had all the answers in the world as to what was going on with him.

He dragged a hand down his face and breathed out a long sigh. He turned his head to look at clock and read that it was well past two in the morning. He tried to focus on all of the sounds, like the creaking of the pipes or the drip of water from the faucet. It didn't stray his thoughts from the girl.

Bucky did come to a conclusion eventually: he should ask his physician if he was mentally insane.

 


	5. For the Good Ol' Cap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So school has started, which means that updates will take longer and I'm sorry for that! But thank you all so much for the kudos and comments. You guys make my day :)

Bucky hadn't visited the library since that Monday. Ever since that heart attack of a conversation with Eva, his stomach was doing backflips. And not the good kind of backflips. So he kept to himself in his apartment, returning to his habits of lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling. Another occupation he took up was looking at the address and time Eva had written down a piece of paper. He didn't know why he kept looking at it, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the messy scribbles. It was already worn from how much he kept holding it.

For some reason, Bucky felt nervous. Every time he looked at the paper or thought about the goddamn book signing, he felt like his heart was in his throat and that his insides were twisting in some insane way. He didn't dare ask his physician about it the day before when he had his check-up. He came close to asking, though, formulating the question in his head before having an internal freak-out and just shutting up and sitting quietly.

Bucky Barnes was a mess and he didn't have the slightest idea in the world why.

He thought an hour in the gym would clear his head, that maybe he could focus on the strain in his legs and upper body. He nearly ran a hole through the treadmill and already broke four punching bags, sand spilling as the lay on the floor as victims of Bucky's aggravation. If he had a dollar for every time he felt anxious and frustrated, Bucky would've been richer than Tony Stark by now. It didn't help when literally  _everything_  reminded him of the girl. Honestly, though, what was so goddamn special about her? If anything, she was just another boring, regular citizen in a boring, regular society doing boring, regular things.

But that was how big of a liar he was, because Eva stood out to Bucky like a red crayon in a box full of gray crayons. Even all the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were gray compared to her. On a normal day, the agents would be completely wary of him but he'd get a flood of unnecessary smiles from the short-haired girl. God, why was she  _always_  smiling? What was there even to smile about? And more importantly, why in the hell wasn't she intimidated? He literally radiated death and self-loathing from a mile away and that would make anyone run with their tails tucked between their legs. Bucky would might as well tattoo "Dangerous" on his forehead, and Eva would still argue with him over Holden Caulfield.

The girl had a special kind of weird that Bucky didn't understand. And he knew weird; he was friends with  _Steve_  for God's sake. And Natasha was whole different species of weird that Bucky didn't dare venture his thoughts into.

Bucky rubbed a towel over his sweaty face and neck, then unwrapped his hands. His knuckles on his flesh hand burned a furious pink and the knuckles on the metal one were left full of scuff marks. Those weren't from the punching bag, but from the helicarrier incident. The soldier grimaced, thinking of Steve's bruised and swollen face staring up at him. He'd try to make it up to the blond, maybe buy him a picture frame or something tacky that normal people would do. That is if normal people bought something for someone they tried to kill.

He managed to run a few more miles on the treadmill before leaving the gym. He passed Agent Barton in the hall and both men nodded to each other and went on their way. Bucky actually didn't mind the skilled marksman. He got along with the agent, and they sometimes exchanged a few words about weaponry and such things. He wasn't on first name basis with him like everyone else and just called him Barton, and the agent called him Barnes, which Bucky appreciated. The only person Bucky would call someone by first name is and always would be Steve… and Eva.

So much for the distractions.

Bucky had a quick shower and dressed in dark jeans and a sweater. A hint of a smirk played on his lips when he looked at his very small wardrobe; he remembered when Steve came by a day after he settled into his tiny apartment with a few bags of brand new clothes. And God, they looked expensive and for some reason, Steve thought it was necessary to purchase very dark colors. Bucky knew that he radiated darkness, but it wasn't exactly written in any document that he should  _only_ wear dark clothes. He wasn't going to tell Steve that, though. But one had to admit, dark clothes made Bucky look even more intimidating. If he got a haircut and shaved every so often, he probably wouldn't look so damn frightening. Bucky wasn't ready for a haircut though; he didn't trust anyone to hold scissors by his face, and he had already fallen victim to laziness when it came to shaving.

He looked through the records that were stacked neatly on a shelf, some of the names looking familiar and others not before pulling out a Brian Crain record. He set it the needle on it and let the piano music fill the empty silence of the apartment. Before he could even settle down on the couch, the was a knock on the door and Bucky audibly groaned. His hand was hovering over the doorknob right when it was pushed open, hitting Bucky in the face and he growled in irritation. The Winter Soldier had a high pain tolerance, but it was annoying to get hit in the nose. Steve peered around the door and was in the middle of frowning and grinning.

"Oh, sorry, Buck," he quickly apologized as he shut the door.

_Sorry, my ass_ , Bucky thought as he rubbed his nose.

"What do you want, Steve?" He tried not to sound so harsh or unwelcoming, but Bucky just really wanted to be alone.

Leave it to Steve for his overly big heart wanting to make sure that every person was happy and he was almost always offering some sort of company. It was hard for Bucky to realize that this was the man who would hate to hurt a fly yet managed to take down the Red Skull  _and_  reveal Hydra to the world  _and_  fight aliens. Steve Rogers, defender of the world and human-sized teddy bear. And what did Bucky do? He fell off a godforsaken train  _and_ lost his arm  _and_  was brainwashed to kill people.

"I'm taking you out for lunch," the blond said. So much for wanting to pay Steve back. "There's a new italian restaurant."

"I'll pass."

"Not taking no for an answer," Steve crossed his arms with a determined look on his face.

"Steve-"

"Let's go!" The blond tugged on Bucky's arm and the brunet tried very hard to pull away from his strong grip. The two may be equal in strength, but when Steve got a hold of Bucky's arm to drag him somewhere, there was no escaping.

"At least let me put my goddamn shoes on!" He protested, pointing to his bare feet.

It seemed that Bucky's idea of having a quiet day came abruptly to an end.

* * *

When the weather changed from hot and welcoming to cold and bitter, it was usually around that time when Steve would put his motorcycle in storage and bring out his SUV. The two sat in the car, old timey jazz playing quietly in the background. Bucky rested his head against his hand and looked out the window, watching the stores and people pass by quickly. He had his legs crossed and leaned in the seat without his seatbelt on, much to Steve's dislike. No matter how much Steve pestered him about how it was the law and it was for his own general safety, Bucky couldn't give a damn and in his own little way protesting, he refused to wear it. Even if the car did crash, he wouldn't get seriously injured or even a scratch.

Bucky flickered his eyes to the side, stealing a glance at Steve whose eyes were fixated on the road. He wondered how the blond could be so calm all the time. Even Steve had his share of hardships, although they weren't as traumatic as Bucky's, but the assassin always wondered how the captain could be so optimistic. Despite the fact that Bucky was a pessimist, he was also a realist. He looked at everything statistically; he knew that he was fifty shades of fucked up and that he had as good of a chance of reverting back to James Barnes as much as a humans setting foot on Pluto. It was something Bucky had yet to ask Steve, how he could just continue living onto the next day without having a meltdown.

After another few minutes of driving, Steve parallel parked the car beside the small restaurant. Bucky shrugged his jacket closer to him and stuffed his hands between his underarms. The smell of oregano and pasta sauce hit Bucky's nostrils like bomb and he felt a wave of foreign nostalgia he had yet to decipher when the two men went inside. There were a few families and some couples as well as others on their lunch breaks scattered around the tables. He swallowed thickly; it was to look at families. For some unknown reason, he always felt some sort of discomfort around them. Steve sat himself and Bucky down around the farthest corner; he mostly picked that particular spot for Bucky's sake, knowing that the man was a ticking time bomb of anxiety and nerves and made sure they had views of all the exits.

Bucky sat there, hand in his palm and stared out the window. The clouds were clustered in the south, but he knew that it would bring a shower of cold rain later. The two super soldiers sat there in silence which was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It was just silence to Bucky, that's all it was. Steve flipped through the laminated menu while the brunet left his untouched. Steve ended up ordering for Bucky, too, since the soldier ate pretty much ate anything anyway. Steve watched his friend who, despite the blank expression, had millions of thoughts swimming in the blue-green of his eyes. It was painstakingly obvious what Bucky was thinking about and Steve didn't blame the guy. It was actually rather amusing to see Bucky, a guy who hardly showed any sort of emotion except annoyance and anger, have a mixture of worry, confusion, terror, and curiosity. Steve laughed inwardly; he wondered what Bucky was like around that girl, if he reverted back to Sergeant James Barnes or was monotone Bucky.

"You're avoiding her," Steve said after a while. Bucky flicked his eyes towards the blond and went back to looking out the window. "It's kind of funny."

Without looking at him, Bucky said with obvious sarcasm in his voice, "Ah, yes, Steve, laugh at my troubles."

The blond snorted. "Why is that? I thought you like her."

"I… I wouldn't  _say_  that I like her."

"I thought you do."

"I suppose I'm fond of her. We're… acquaintances."

"Okay, why are you avoiding your  _acquaintance_?"

Bucky breathed out a long sigh, blinking his hair out of his eyes.

"I don't know." And he was being honest. Bucky really didn't know the exact reason why he hadn't gone to see Eva.

"Well, you're going to have to see her tomorrow…"

Bucky flinched, an action Steve rarely saw, and fully faced him with an incredulous look on his face. "To...tomorrow's  _Saturday_?"

Steve cocked an eyebrow before nodding slowly.

"Oh, fuck…" Bucky dragged his hands down his face in and slumped back in defeat. He hadn't realized that the signing was  _tomorrow_. He was so busy trying to distance himself and calm his nerves that he hadn't noticed that Saturday was quickly approaching.

The waitress placed their food, lasagna for Steve and chicken parmesan for Bucky, in front of them. Steve attacked his lunch while Bucky picked at his chicken with a frown on his face. All of he could think about was Eva and that stupid grin on her face and her goddamn happiness and Bucky wasn't sure what to do. He had been alone with her before at the library and at the coffeehouse a week or so ago, but to be alone with her… in public… with  _several_  people that were most likely going to crowd around at the book signing. It was unnerving and Bucky pushed his meal away from a wave of nausea.

Steve sighed and pushed a glass of water towards his paling friend. "Calm down, Buck. You don't need to worry."

"I'm  _not_  worried," Bucky muttered, more to himself rather than Steve. No, of course he wouldn't be worried. He wasn't a wuss… or was he?

Steve pushed the glass of water even more towards Bucky, a silent plea to calm his nerves down and just relax.

"Just think about how much fun you'll have." Bucky gave him a look that said,  _When have I ever been capable of fun_? "At least do it for her. At least  _smile_. She's obviously going to enjoy her time with you."

"And if I ruin it?"

"Stop being pessimistic," Steve waved his fork at him. "It's not healthy. You hanging out with this Eva girl, that is healthy. It's progress, Buck."

Bucky snorted to himself. "Progress? She's someone who just works at the library."

" _Just_  someone?"

"Yes."

"Bucky," Steve said in a serious note. "Would you really, and I'm being serious and I want you to think about this, would you  _really_  leave the confines of your apartment in your reclusive state and go out in the clutches of society all because she's just another face?"

Bucky furrowed his brow. What the hell does that even mean? He looked down at the table, taking in every detail of the wood, every scratch, every chip, every line. God… he would punch Steve if they weren't in a public place.

He ran his flesh hand through his hair and exhaled a breath. "I guess she… she isn't just someone."

Steve chewed in thought and swallowed before speaking again. "I think she could help you remember things."

"Steve-"

"Really, Bucky, she might influence you in a good way."

"How? Is she going to wave her magic wand at me? She's not going to hocus-pocus me into suddenly getting my memories."

"I just mean that she can bring out the best of you; you were quite a spontaneous guy back in the day, and ladies brought that side of you-"

"Eva's not going to bring out  _any_  side of me."

"-but maybe over time… you can go back to the way you were."

Bucky narrowed his eyes into slits. "I can't go back to the way I was, Steve, it doesn't work like that."

"Buc-"

"No, Steve," Bucky snapped. "If you think that Eva can magically bring out the brighter side of me, then you need to rethink whatever little fantasy that's going on in your head. I'm not James Barnes anymore, I'm the damn Winter Soldier. I can't just go back to being whatever you remembered me as. You need to accept me as… whatever the hell I am."

Bucky had both his hands clenched in his lap and he couldn't meet Steve's eyes. It was rather hypocritical of him to say that, because he still wasn't able to accept himself. He had a hint of regret about saying all those things to Steve that way.

"Sorry."

"No, Buck, you're right," the blond interjected. "I just need to accept you as you are. I know that having you go back to the same old person is sort of a lost cause, but as long as you're alive and in front me, then I couldn't have it any other way."

When they paid the bill- Steve paid, Bucky didn't even have enough time to grab his wallet- the two super soldiers left the car in front of the restaurant and took a stroll around D.C. as the afternoon sun moved across the sky. The walk was quiet, and they turned to where Steve usually took his morning runs around the National Monument and Lincoln Memorial. A couple groups of tourists walked around, clad in matching neon sweaters and flashing cameras. Bucky didn't really see what was so special about these tourist hotspots.

It really wasn't such a bad place to have run though.

Near the monument was the Potomac, where the Triskelion once stood high and proud cleared of its ruins. All that was left of it was some rods sticking up out of the ground and a fence surrounding it. The city had plans to build another skyscraper, maybe an office building, but that still an idea on the perch. Bucky looked up at the sky, almost half expecting the building to rise up from the ground and stand gleaming in the sun as it had in the past. Every time he blinked, he could see flashes of the helicarriers in the air, their gargantuan guns trained on the millions of people from the sky. He could hear, see, and almost smell the smoky from the explosions of metal and glass, and the rusty, metallic taste of blood on his lips as he remembered the moment Steve fell through the floor. He shuddered and looked back down at the concrete sidewalk as the two men walked on.

Bucky would gladly trade those memories for an empty mind. The mere thought of how Hydra nearly succeeded with eradicating the few million off the face of the earth made Bucky sick. He stopped short, leaning against a tree and heavily breathing, covering his mouth with his hand and he could feel the chicken make its way up as his throat, the memories flashing through his head of blood and exploding metal. Of Steve. Of Fury. Of Natasha and Sam. Of Alexander Pierce's cold, blue eyes. He closed his eyes and took in deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves and come down from the miniature panic attack. He felt a hand, Steve's hand, rest on his shoulder and he asked Bucky if he was alright.

"I'm fine," Bucky said, trying very hard not to let his voice crack.

Steve shot his friend a worried glance and they turned continued on with their walk. They walked up and down the strip by the monument and headed back in the direction of the car. Bucky relaxed after a few minutes, stomach settling down even though he could taste a bit of vomit at the back of his mouth. He tried to swallow a few times and wished he had a bottle of water with him.

"So what exactly are you two going to talk about?" Steve's voice sliced through the thick silence like a knife.

Bucky flashed him a pointed look before shrugging his shoulders. "Books."

Steve cocked his brow. "Is that all you two talk about? At least make an effort to talk about other things."

Bucky wanted to tell him that they  _had_  talked about others things, but he wasn't going to. Steve didn't need to know about him getting coffee with Eva, otherwise the blond wouldn't shut up.

"Why don't you take her somewhere afterwards?" Steve suggested.

"Like where? This isn't exactly an exciting city."

"Helicarriers blew up. Captain America is seen running in the morning. If that doesn't seem exciting, then you're on the wrong planet."

Bucky rolled his eyes, blowing stray pieces of hair out of his face. "Har, har. She'd decline anyway. She might want to go home later."

"What would you do if she asked you over?"

Bucky physically tensed. He hadn't thought of that. "I don't know…"

"You  _better_  say yes." Steve had this look on his face that made Bucky want to trip him. "She clearly wants to be your friend."

Bucky scrunched his face up. The girl must be crazy, he mused, if she wanted to be his friend. The other agents would literally run for the hills than actually befriend the stone-faced brunet. But the thought did make his stomach flutter uncertainly. Friends… with Eva. Wait till his therapist heard about this… that is if he actually worked up the courage to talk about Eva and his trips to the public library. Like hell he would.

"Oh, stop being so apathetic. I know you want to be her friend;  _you_  just don't know it yourself."

"And  _you_  have no idea what you're talking about."

Steve stopped short and stood in front him. He was barely taller than Bucky, and the Winter Soldier couldn't imagine Steve being any shorter than that; it almost seemed impossible when he had to look up a fraction of a centimeter at him.

"What kind of a gentleman would just stand there quietly while on a date with a nice dame?"

"Goddammit, it's not a date! Don't let Natasha fill your head with that crap!"

"Doesn't give you an excuse to be a robot. Make sure she's having fun, she's looking forward to this. She's looking forward to seeing you."

Bucky groaned to himself. The stupid bastard wasn't going to let this go.

"Pretend I'm Eva and that you have to have a conversation with me."

"No."

"Hello, Bucky," Steve's voice squeaked in the most hideous, feminine tone he could manage.

"Oh, Christ…"

"How was your day?"

"Steve, don't embarrass me."

"I just can't wait to go the book signing!"

" _Steve-_ "

"Aren't you excited?"

"People are staring."

"We're going to have such a wonderful ti-"

" _Goddammit, Steve_!"

"You have the loveliest eyes!"

"STEVE, STOP."

Steve couldn't help but pull his lips into a toothy grin while Bucky stood there with an annoyed expression etched on his face.

"You're so weird," he grumbled as they walked back to the car.

On the way back to the base, Steve stopped by a grocery to buy himself a few things and left Bucky in the car, feet resting against the dash (something Steve always despised) and leaned his head against the cold glass window. He was going over what Steve had said in his mind, and although he didn't like admitting it, Steve did have a point. Eva sure did look excited and this must be important to her. He'd never even seen anyone look so happy. It almost terrifying to see how bright Eva's eyes had looked. God, he swore her pupils fucking dilated right when he said yes. He almost felt himself get scared at the thought of her shattering like a mirror he stood her up.

Steve drove Bucky back to the base after he returned and pulled up next to a building that looked very much like an office space. Bucky bid him goodbye and watched the man drive away and take a left at the stoplight. He turned on his heel and went inside, running a hand through the tangles in his hair. It felt a bit odd to him every time he returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, whenever he passed the security guard-who was actually an agent- and walked to the the very back of the building. Bucky did think that it was a bit clever to disguise S.H.I.E.L.D. this way, he thought as he took the elevator down beneath the building. It wouldn't last long, though. The government was still on the look out for any suspicion that Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D. still existed.

The elevator came to a stop and he got off and went inside his apartment, shutting the door and leaning against it. He sighed to himself, closing his eyes, and could feel his muscles begin to feel a bit sore from exerting himself too much earlier in the morning. Bucky showered again, feeling as if he had a non-existent layer of dirt on him. He washed the water run down the metal of his wrist. He ran his flesh finger along the structure, the bend. It was strange to feel the sensation of skin through the metal. That was something that never failed to fascinate Bucky, the fact that something as horrible as Hydra finding a way for him to feel sensations just like his other arm. Though it wasn't exactly the same, he could feel every texture or temperature. A thought flashed through his mind, of what it would feel like to run his metal fingers through Eva's short hair, and he immediately scowled and shook his head, shutting off the stream of water.

He dressed in a pair of sweats and turned the record player back on. He laid on the couch and listened to the rhythmic notes of the piano playing, resting his folded hands on his stomach. His damp hair pooled under his head and made the spot on the couch wet, but he paid no mind to it. Soon enough, he could feel his eyes droop shut, and he awaited for the night full of restless, terrifying dreams to come.


	6. Not a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating so late, thanks for the comments! Enjoy the chapter :)

Bucky was a little nervous.

Actually, that was an understatement. He was  _incredibly_  nervous. His flesh hand was sweaty, he was twitching, and he couldn't stop running his hands through his hair until it just became a tangled mess of dark hair. He hadn't slept through the night very well, his nightly horrors picking apart his mind, and had kept his eyes open since three in the morning. It was almost near noon and he felt strangely awake for having an hour minimum of sleep. Looking at his reflection in the mirror made him cringe. He looked horrible; sunken eyes, dark rings, ashy complexion, matted hair. Bucky would've passed for a corpse.

He made a fresh pot of tea on the stove to occupy himself and poured himself a mug. However, he immediately spit back the sip in his mug, his face screwing up in disgust. Oh, right. Bucky  _hated_  tea. He was more of a coffee person. The pot was emptied into the drain and he just left it in the basin, rummaging through the cupboards for at least some sort of coffee-related drink. The only thing he actually had was a few packets of instant coffee he'd swiped from the cafeteria on the second level. He made himself a mug of that and relished in the caffeine flowing through his veins. It made Bucky relax.

But only for that short moment.

He made a habit out of his anxiety and extreme stress levels by walking about his apartment, fixing and cleaning things that weren't in any need of that. The super-soldier was practically going insane. Bucky literally tugged at the dark strands of his hair to give him something,  _anything_ , to focus his attention on.

Bucky stopped in mid stride of the living room, which was nearly in the process of getting worn through his pacing, and groaned in his hands.

"What the  _hell_?" He scolded himself.

What on God's green earth was he even worrying about? Today was literally nothing to all the days of assassinating and doing Hydra's dirty work; he barely even hesitated with orders. So then why was Bucky hesitating at every moment when Eva's face popped into his head? He took a few deep breaths, trying to at least lower his blood pressure to some extent, gripping his chest. The pain in his left shoulder starting to make itself apparent. It was something that came as a nuisance to Bucky, that his left shoulder would start to hurt when he was stressed. He sat down, rolling his shoulder and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling with the feeling of uncertainty rolling in his gut. Eva. God, he had a date with Eva.

He shook his head furiously to himself, almost as if there was someone there he was trying to deny it to. Except he was by himself and there was the stupid little voice pestering at the back of his head. This was in no way a date.  _Not at all_. This was a… friendly get together. It would not have been a date anyway, because  _she_  had asked  _him_. It would've been a date if Bucky had asked her himself. And he knew that he lacked the balls to actually  _do it_.

Well, no. He had the balls to do so. At least he thought so. But he convinced himself that this was two friends hanging out together… alone… just a dame and a guy.  _Not. A. Date._

Right? Right.

If Natasha was here in the same room, she would've been going on and on, pushing at Bucky's buttons about this whole ordeal. He tried to block out the sound of her annoying, taunting laugh. God, he suddenly wanted to punch something.

He flopped his head back to rest on the back of the couch, shutting his eyes and brushing the long hairs away from his face, running a hand down his face. It would be a good idea to shave, he realized, but in no way did he make an effort to leave his spot. The laziness was taking over his body and the feeble efforts in the gym weren't cutting it. He needed steroids or something to get him pumped. He looked down at his arms and legs in the shorts and t-shirt he wore; he poked a finger at his muscles. Bucky was still rather toned and didn't really gain any weight, but he did feel a little bit soft at his right bicep and calf muscles. If he kept this behavior up, eventually he'd become a living blob of skin and a metal arm.

The front door opened, shaking Bucky from his cloud of inner darkness, and Steve let himself in. He held an Apple bag in one hand and the other held a Five Guys paper bag; the smell of french fries hit Bucky like a punch to the face. A good kind of punch to the face.

"What's… Five Guys?" Bucky asked the blonde, taking the bag from his hands. "Sounds like an orgy."

Steve would've taken a hello instead, but settled for the remark. "Not an orgy. It's a burger joint. Pretty good if you ask me. Got you some burgers and fries."

The brunet grunted, pulling a burger from the bag and unwrapping it. He took a bite and swallowed without thoroughly chewing, making Steve frown. He was nearly done with his burger before he took notice of the other bag again and nodded to it, asking Steve what it was.

"This," the blond set the bag down on the table in front of Bucky. "Is also for you."

Bucky gave him a suspicious look before wiping his hands on his shorts and pulling out a white box.

"A phone?" Bucky gave him a questioned look. "Steve…"

"You need it," Steve said. "This is the twenty-first century, Buck."

"How much did this cost you?"

"Not much."

"Steve-"

"Shut up and try it out."

The brunet sighed, taking out the device and holding it in his hand. It was a sleek, black IPhone, and Bucky had to admit that it was kind of nice. But God, did it look expensive. He wasn't good at understanding how the American economy or goods and services worked, but Bucky knew when someone had to scrunch up and save for something as useless, yet expensive like this. Steve was just too selfless for his own good. Bucky would most likely sell Captain America for a grape if it came down to it.

Or maybe that was the Winter Soldier talking.

But he held the phone in his hand and, with a defeated sigh, thanked Steve. Bucky finished the sandwich before wiping his hands on his shirt to turn on the phone. It glowed with life and the Apple logo greeted him. He chewed on his lip and furrowed his brow as his finger ghosted over the screen, trying to figure out the little device. He knew how to use a machine gun, he knew how to hack into a computer, he knew how which parts of the spine to throw a kick or punch to paralyze a man. However, Bucky had little knowledge on how to use an IPhone. Steve noticed and had to a bite back a smile as he watched the man wear an expression of confusion and slight annoyance.

"Here," Steve finally stepped over to take the phone. "I'll set it up for you. Just go do whatever you need to do."

Bucky rolled his eyes out of habit, and left the blond to it. He darted his eyes to the clock and his breath caught short when he realized that there was about forty-five minutes till he had to meet up with Eva. How could the time go by so quickly? More importantly he'd have to speed walk the hell over there, but then again he wasn't quite sure  _where_  exactly the location was.

"Steve-"

"I'll give you a ride," Steve said without looking up from the phone. His tone had a hint of finality to it.

Bucky blew the air out from his cheeks, turning to go to his room and muttering about how that wasn't even what even what he was going to ask. He hopped into the shower, not caring how the water was steaming and scorching his skin, and scrubbed himself roughly till he was pink. He wore a frown the whole time, rinsing himself and brushing his teeth as he focused on the drops of hot water pelted him like an angry hurricane. Once he dried himself off, Bucky looked in the mirror, eyeing the beard before shaking his head and hurrying off to his drawers. He'd shave another time.

Without really looking through his collection of clothes, he threw on a grey knitted sweater and dark jeans; he decided it best to throw his hooded sweatshirt over him. When he started to pull his socks over his feet, he froze, rat tails of still wet hair dangling over his eyes. This was actually happening, Bucky realized. It startled him, but he didn't know why this startled him. His emotions were all over, and he kept trying to breathe and tell himself that this was normal. Going to see friends-rather an acquaintance-was normal. Eva was normal. He was normal.

"No, you're not," Bucky muttered to himself, pulling on his sock. "No where near normal."

He couldn't fool himself; Bucky knew that whatever this was, this wasn't normal.

* * *

Bucky began to wish that he had shaved. God, he should've shaved. He kept running his flesh hand over the prickly hairs along his cheeks and lower jaw. It was too late now, he realized, as he sat in the passenger seat of Steve's car. He pulled the hood of his sweater over his head to conceal the five o'clock shadow and buried his head into his arms and his neck wasn't even existent with the thick scarf wrapped around, feet up on the dash. Whenever Steve looked over at him, he thought of a teenage boy going through a rebellious stage. It was a bit amusing.

The clouds were scattered today, but the weather still had a bitter bite to it. The leaves that were still left on the trees were barely hanging on, blowing precariously in the wind. Autumn was a season that Bucky seemed to take to rather than the other seasons. People seemed to become obnoxious during the warmth of Spring, Summer was scorchingly brutal, and Winter… he didn't like to see the snow because every time he blinked, he'd see himself falling.

Autumn was nice, he thought as his eyes glazed over the stores and stoplights.

Bucky kept flashing his eyes to the phone in his hand, pressing the home button every now and then to check the time. Steve had given him a brief talk about how to use it to make calls and how to text; the blond took the privilege to add his, Natasha's and Sam's phone numbers into the contacts list. But they both knew that Bucky wouldn't call anyone; sooner or later the phone would collect dust. Steve, however, had hope that even if the Winter Soldier wouldn't call him, he'd at least use it for the one special person that he darest not admit anything about.

Steve soon broke the silence. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Bucky flashed him a look that showed no interest and went back to gazing out at the world that sped by.

"So Kate… I mean,  _Sharon_ , you know Agent Thirteen, right? Well, she moved out from the apartment across from mine a while ago." Steve looked over to Bucky who made no sign of acknowledgement.

"Well, it's up for rent," Steve stole a glance at Bucky again. Still nothing. "I want you to move in across from me."

This made Bucky snap his head over to him, brows furrowed and a million things to say brewing in his head, but not exactly sure what to say.

"What?" Was the only word the thing that escaped his mouth. The single phrase spoke for itself. What was Steve thinking? What would make Bucky even  _want_  to move there?  _What if Hydra found him and beat the living shit out of Steve?_

He internally snorted to himself. Steve would probably beat the living shit out of Hydra. Their agents didn't stand a chance against Mr. Tall-Muscular-and-Blond.

"I feel like you'd be a lot happier there," Steve began to explain. "No offense, but you're becoming a hermit and the fact that you live underground is a little creepy."

"Not my fault S.H.I.E.L.D. decided to dig a hole into the earth," Bucky muttered into his palm.

Steve ignored the comment and continued. "You've been given this freedom by Fury, and you might as well use it. There's no point in hiding forever-"

"I'm not hiding."

"-and plus," Steve looked at Bucky with a smirk. "It might give you a chance to see Eva more often."

Bucky shot him a glare. "Wipe that damn smirk off your face."

Steve chuckled and steered the car right, approaching the Barnes and Noble. Bucky's stomach suddenly flipped over in nervousness and he clenched his jaw. The car parked against the curb and Bucky opened the door. He shoved the phone into his pocket and just as he was about to slam the door shut, Steve spoke up.

"So?"

The brunet arched his brow. "So what?"

"So will you move in?" Steve had this gleam of hope and plea in his eyes.

Bucky chewed on his lip and sighed. "I'll think about it."

That was enough for Steve and he smiled. "Alright. I'll see you later, call if you want me to pick you up."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Have fun." Steve winked and drove off when Bucky shut the door.

One of these days, Bucky was going to throw him into a wall. He pulled the scarf tighter around his neck and shoved his hands into his pockets. The smell of the cold air was breathed into him, and he exhaled, watching the condensation of his breath flow into the atmosphere. He could feel himself sweat beneath the layers of his clothes and he wasn't sure if it was because he was nervous or it was just the clothes themselves. He moved to stand under the green awning of the bookstore, gazing up at the building. Bucky had never been in this part of downtown D.C. before; the Barnes and Noble stood tall and proud. Above the store were stories that probably were offices. People passed by but paid him no attention which was a relief. On this Saturday, there was quite a crowd walking to and fro, with friends or family, or by themselves. He groaned at the thought of how he'd probably need to call Steve for a ride. The location was far from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base. Or maybe Eva would give him a ride. A shiver went down his spine at the thought and he couldn't imagine himself being in alone a car with her.

It was a stupid fear, though, because he'd been alone with her several times. But what made Bucky anxious was the fact that he'd be in her space,  _her_  car. He suddenly began to wonder what kind of car she drove. It would probably be one of those electric cars that everyone talked about, how it saved the Earth from pollution and what not. In his opinion, electric cars contradicted what they were made to do, mostly because the electricity used to charge them came from coal power plants.

As his mind rambled on and on, a voice made his way to his ears through the crowd. Bucky looked up and his he felt his heart rate start to accelerate when he saw Eva walk over. He begged his stupid heart to calm down and inhaled a long breath to calm himself down. The way he was reacting was ridiculous and he wanted to just slap himself.

"Bucky!" She smiled and waved her fingers. "You made it."

He nodded. "I did."

A gust of wind blew and Bucky was overcome with the scent of vanilla, filling up his lungs. He realized that the scent was Eva and he couldn't remember smelling something so nice before. He watched her tuck her short hair behind her ear, which were starting to turn red from the cold. He gave her a quick once-over from head to toe, not to be creepy but just quickly analyzing her. Eva looked nice; she wore a sweater dress and thick leggings with boots, and a coat over the attire. Of course, she lacked a hat and scarf. She looked nice, and he knew that it was because she was meeting her favorite author; he couldn't relate to how she felt, but Bucky understood.

He suddenly felt very self conscious, and could feel himself shrink beneath his clothes. He really wished he had shaved earlier.

"I'm so excited," Eva couldn't wipe the permanent grin off her face. Bucky noticed that she had a dimple on the left side of her mouth. Her hands held her face as she gushed on and her brown eyes were bright. "I couldn't sleep at all last night!"

This made Bucky smile, just a little bit. There was something about the air around her that suddenly made him feel a fraction better.

"Do you want to go inside then?" He pointed his thumb to the entrance.

She nodded quickly, pulling her purse up over her shoulder. "Let's go."

Warmth greeted them when they went inside and Bucky was surprised to see how many people were already there. The majority of them were teenage girls; he grimaced as he remembered that group of teens from a few weeks ago. If there was something that he hated more than Hydra, than Natasha pestering him, than Fury treating him like a child, was teenagers. They were always wild and rogue and just  _annoying_. He couldn't understand how they were so fascinated with the latest trends and media. It was just a bunch of crap, really.

Eva groaned. "There's a line."

That made Bucky groan, too, not because of Eva was impatient to get her book signed, but because that meant the endless chatter in the air would last forever when they were going to wait.

He tried to be a little positive for sake, even though he wasn't. "It's alright. She's not going anywhere."

She twisted her mouth to the side in thought before looking up at him with a pleasant expression. "Okay."

While they stood in line, Eva rummaged through her purse, brows pinching together as she searched for her copy of Kelly Keaton's book. Bucky had to wonder why women basically hoarded useless things into their bags; what was so important in that little bag of tricks? Eva found the book within the mess and made a happy noise. She held it to her chest and bounced on her toes, trying to look over and ahead to see whether or not the line was moving.

Bucky noticed her impatience through her body language; that and the constant pursing of her lips.

He set his right hand on her shoulder to keep her from fidgeting. "You're going to see her."

"I know," she sighed dramatically. "But this line is moving at the speed of a foot per hour."

Bucky snorted. "I doubt that."

"Figuratively speaking, Bucky" she laughed. "Figuratively speaking."

This made Bucky want to roll his eyes, but he didn't out of courtesy. He knew that Eva just overcome with excitement. He didn't really understand her excitement all too well, but he accepted the quirkiness.

However, as time dragged on, even Bucky had succumbed to the fever of impatience. As Eva had previously said, the line really felt like it was moving a foot per hour. He looked over the heads of the people in front of them, and even though the people at the front of the line were blocking the view of the author, he could see them chatting away. Bucky had a better view than Eva of how fast the line was moving, mostly due to the fact that he was four inches taller than she was. Bucky remembered in his days of doing Hydra's dirty work, that he'd wait for hours on end in the same position before proceeding to exterminate his targets. This, though, was different.

Bucky would clench and unclench his fists, swaying back and forth on his heels. He could hear chattering from behind him and something burning the back of his head. He strained his ears and craned his neck slightly.

"... tall and dark… think he's single?"

"No… no, I don't think so. He's with…  _that_."

Then there were giggles, high pitched and annoying.

"Jeez, who cuts their hair like that?"

"... must be a dyke." Then there was more snickering.

It didn't take a genius to understand what the two people were talking about, rather  _who_  they were speaking of. Bucky could feel himself darken up for some unknown reason, and without letting Eva notice him, Bucky looked back over his shoulder and let his darkened eyes settle over two blonde girls. They had stopped their cackling and looked up to the super-soldier, swallowing back their rude humor and paling at the glare that Bucky was shooting at them. If looks could kill, the two girls would be dead on the spot. He turned back around, satisfied when the chattering behind him and Eva stopped. He was relieved that Eva seemed to be unphased, just impatient.

It seemed like ages when Bucky and Eva became second in line, and that was when Eva seemed to have lost her sense of sanity.

"Holy crap," she breathed, nails digging into the book she clutched. " _Holy crap_."

It was all a bit alarming for Bucky, mostly because he wasn't sure how to react to her freaking out.

"Are you okay?" He hesitated when asking.

She shook her head, trying to swallow air. "I think I'm going to have an aneurysm. I'm only twenty-four and I'm about to have cardiac arrest."

At least Bucky knew that she was just overreacting, but still, he wasn't sure how to deal with her current state of being.

"We can still run for it-"

"What?" Bucky looked down at the short-haired, wide-eyed girl. "Not too long ago you were saying that the line was moving too slow. Now you want to bail?"

"I'd rather  _not_  throw up in front of someone I admire."

"Don't be-"

"Who's next?" A voice called.

Eva froze and Bucky looked up to see a woman sitting at the table. She had dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and glasses perched up on her nose, pen ready to sign her name on the copies of works. She also had a warm smile. This was Kelly Keaton.

Bucky pushed Eva gently at the small of her back, and he thought that the girl must have forgotten how to walk all of a sudden. She still managed to move to stand right in front of the table.

"Hi," the author said, smile still etched onto her face.

Eva's mouth opened and closed, suddenly dry. She managed to squeak out, "Hello."

Bucky thought this was amusing, but he kept the amusement hidden to himself. Eva still seemed paralyzed from where she stood, and Bucky somehow felt the burden of responsibility to do something about the situation.

"This is Eva," he spoke abruptly, taking the book out of her hands and setting it before Ms. Keaton. "She's a fan of your works."

"Oh, I hope you've been enjoying them," the woman told her with warmth, opening up the cover of the book and setting her pen onto the parchment inside.

Eva seemed to snap out of her trance and nodded. "Oh, yes! Yes, I just… I can't put your books down."

Keaton laughed, scribbling her autograph. She had asked Eva what she would like to her to write within the cover, and Eva responded that anything would be fine. The two women talked amongst themselves, and Bucky suddenly found himself standing off to the side, arms crossed, excluded from the little bubble. He watched them, particularly Eva who was starting to relax and could see the brightness radiate off her brown orbs. She looked as if she was talking to an old friend and somehow everything seemed to mute, and all he could do was just watch her. Her body language, her little habits, the way she'd laugh or push back the strands of hair from her face. Bucky paid all of his attention to her; he followed every movement of hers, every shift was seen in slow motion.

There were times when Bucky was in combat, and everything seemed to slow down. His heart, his mind, his opponent, sound and sight. He'd foresee everything and move within the timestream and wait for the right moment to throw a punch. Watching Eva was like this; he knew when she was about to sneeze by the smallest shift of her nose, when her fingers twitched to scratch the itch on her collarbone. He could see all of her.

"So, is this your boyfriend?" The bubble had popped and Bucky was thrown back to the Earth.

He shifted his gaze, which was of surprise, towards Ms. Keaton, and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. He darted his eyes over to Eva, who looked just as surprised. It was moments like these when Bucky couldn't really see all of her; he couldn't see or figure out the thoughts in her head. And this was when Bucky wished he could foresee what she was going to say.

Eva only smiled and shook her head. "Oh, no, Bucky's a friend."

The author's face went from a grin to a small smile, and she nodded her head. "Oh, sorry, my mistake."

"It's fine," Bucky answered before Eva could.

There was something in his chest, something beating hard against his ribs and lungs, but it didn't feel like his heart. It felt like something else. His gaze shifted to his feet and he tried not to steal a glance at her, but he wanted to. He wanted to read the expression on her face.

Eva had gotten her book signed and thanked the author again. The two left the Barnes & Noble, Bucky expressionless and Eva with a grand smile on her face.

"Thanks, Bucky," Eva turned to him, looking at him with her usual smile.

He looked down at her, and felt the corners of his lips turn up slightly. "Anytime."

"I think if I went alone, I probably would've ended up embarrassing myself or something," she spoke truthfully.

"I'm starting to think that it would've been very likely."

"I know, that's why I'm thanking you."

Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets and smiled a little to himself. She was so weird, he thought, but it was a nice kind of weird. They sort of strolled around the busy streets, neither of them objecting to it. They were quiet, but that was fine, and Bucky was starting to appreciate the sounds of D.C. as well as the sights. Bucky walked slightly behind Eva, almost like a lost puppy. She seemed to enjoy the city, too. Bucky looked to his left, slowing down in his tracks as he gazed through the window of a busy bakery. The smell of cakes and breads wafted in the air every time someone opened the door. Eva stopped walking, too, looking from Bucky to the shop.

"Did you want to buy something?" She asked him.

He turned to her, chewing on the inside of his cheek. There was a lot of people, he noticed, but the smell of freshly baked brownies was luring him.

"I think I'd like a brownie," he admitted, looking away. He suddenly felt like a wimp. The Winter Soldier was won over by pastries.

Eva blinked, watching the tough guy persona be broken down by his sudden craving for a brownie. She couldn't help but smile and asked Bucky to wait outside, going inside the bakery before he could answer. He scratched his head and sighed, watching her beeline through the small crowd of customers through the window. He saw a man take some wax paper and pick up one of the pastries from the glass case; Eva exchanged a five dollar bill for the brownie. She was back outside in less than four minutes from what Bucky was counting.

"Here," she gave him a small paper bag.

"You shouldn't have bought me that."

"Yeah, well, consider it as payment for the coffee and accompanying me today."

He rolled his eyes, taking the brownie out of the small bag. He broke it in half and offered it to Eva was trying to decline.

"Bucky-"

"Just take the damn brownie," he smirked.

She blew air out from her cheeks before taking it. "Thanks."

Bucky took a bite out his half and tried not to think too much about how good it was, but he couldn't help it. The enjoyment was evident on his face and he finished the rest of it.

"Would it be bad if we bought another?" He asked.

At this point he didn't care about being all tough and mean; the Winter Soldier really liked brownies.


	7. Plates Are Overrated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you all for the comments! Seriously your comments made me laugh so hard, holy crap! And I just love you all so much, ugh, it KILLS me. This chapter has been taking me forever, but DO NOT FRET, I organized myself and wrote outlines for the next 3 chapters! Yay! Anyway, HAPPY HALLOWEEN, and I actually turn 18 on the 30th so WOOT WOOT. I'll be legal! Except, I'll still be living with parents, but I do enjoy my mom's food so.. But anyway, I'm going to get busier these days, especially with college registration and whatnot. Thanks for reading and I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. Toodles!

"It's not going to fit, Steve," Bucky grunted, clenching his jaw from impatience.

"Yes, it will!" The blond argued, straining his arms. "I paid good money for this couch, and by God,  _it will make it through the door_."

"I'm with the Winter Soldier on this one, man," Sam said, sitting on the armchair by the window, scrolling through messages on his phone. "Thing's too big."

"You can at least help, you know," Bucky growled.

"I am helping," Sam was texting away. "I'm offering words of encouragement."

Eventually, with the constant nagging of Steve, Bucky made the decision to move out of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base and into the apartment across from Steve. Of course, he had been reluctant; if he moved in, then Steve would pester him more; not that he had anything against Steve, just that the Winter Soldier enjoyed his peace and quiet. He had thought long and hard about it, thinking about the pros and cons to staying or leaving. When Bucky had his physical and therapy done earlier in the week, he brought the subject up.

* * *

" _Everything seems to be in order, James," the doctor said, piling all files neatly together before placing them within his folder. "Physical health is good."_

_Bucky had pulled his shirt back on, hopping off the table. The doctor asked him to sit down across from her desk while she typed away on her computer. He sat there picking away at the loose threads of his jeans, mind bubbling away with thoughts._

" _So, how has your month been, James?" she asked, folding her hands neatly on the desk._

_He gave the smallest hint of a shrug. "Fine."_

_She scribbles down nonsense in her notebook, before looking back up at him. "The nightmares… are they still present?"_

_He nodded. "Every night."_

" _Tell me about them."_

_Bucky swallowed thickly before speaking. "Hydra. It's always Hydra. Sometimes they're about Ste- I mean Captain Rogers. The train in the mountains, but most of the time they're of Hydra."_

_There was more scribbling. "How do you feel about them?"_

_Bucky can't help but snort. The doctor is unphased by the rude action, knowing that he was always like this about his dreams and mental health. It were always the questions that Bucky couldn't help but feel were unnecessary and a waste of time. He did respect S.H.I.E.L.D.'s doctor and knew that they offered the best help, but God, did he think it was such a waste of time._

_Bucky laughed low and darkly to himself. "Memories of being picked apart and experimented on aren't something that someone wants to talk about. It sucks. Actually it's worse than that, it's traumatizing. I'm surprised that I'm not even losing my mind."_

" _Every time I close my eyes, they're there. All I can see is that bastard Zola and then that other worthless, piece of garbage Pierce._

" _James, do you think you're holding back?" The doctor asked him. It was an abrupt and confusing question._

" _What do you mean?"_

" _I mean," she took off her glasses and rubbed her aging eyes. "Do think that you're holding back the... the fears from your experiences, I should say?"_

_Bucky furrowed his brows. "I... don't know."_

_"Have you lashed out at anyone because of stress?"_

_"I... I suppose I have."_

_The doctor writes down some other notes, and Bucky catches a glimpse of 'may have anxiety' and 'questionable stability'. He tensed up; she thought he was crazy._

" _Relax, James," she said without looking up. "Have you been feeling anxious or irritable these past few weeks?"_

" _... yes?"_

" _Yes?"_

" _I… the stress is making itself known this month. Paranoia… that, too, is making me feel…" He couldn't find the word._

" _Volatile?" The doctor suggested._

_Bucky wasn't sure what the meant, but he guessed that it was probably a synonym of some sort relating to what he was feeling._

" _I know we've discussed this in the past, and that you've always been reluctant, but I really do suggest we prescribe you with some sort of anxiety medication."_

_Bucky sighed, rolling his head back to rest against the back of the chair. "Doc-"_

" _Believe me, James," she said. "A lot of our agents deal with PTSD, and the majority of them take medication to deal with their stress. It may be of some use to you and your situation. With any luck, it may help with your recurring dreams and flashbacks, lessening the stress."_

" _I don't know…"_

" _Tell you what," she brings up a small paper pad and begins to scribble the name of a prescription before ripping it off and handing it to Bucky. "I'll let you hold onto this prescription, and you can drop it off near some pharmacy, or have Captain Rogers do to for you, when you feel ready to take the medication."_

_He nodded, taking the slip of paper and folding it within his hands. After slipping it in his pocket, Bucky drew in a breath and released it as he got up from his seat, concluding his appointment. With his hand hovering over the door knob, he swallowed the hesitation down his throat and turned around to look at the doctor._

" _If I were to…" he scratched his neck, feeling his tongue swell up. He was suddenly apprehensive, which was something that seemed to happen a lot lately._

_The doctor looked up at him, brow raised. "To?"_

" _What if I were to move into an apartment?" He bit his tongue, waiting for her to slam her fist down and tell him no. "There's one up for rent across Captain Rogers' place and I was thinking..."_

_"Alright."_

_"I knew it was a long shot, thanks an-wait_ what _?" He shot her incredulous look._

_"Why not? You mentioned that Captain Rogers is occupying the one across. This may help you in your steady recovery by allowing you to start venturing out into the world. Even I believe that it's a bit dreary at headquarters, might as well get into a bright environment."_

_Bucky scratched his head. Of all the answers he thought he would get, he didn't expect that._

* * *

And after a day of packing (Bucky didn't really have much to pack, save for some dishes, clothes, and few albums) he, Steve, and Sam were finally moving his furniture into the small apartment. They rented a moving truck and carried all the boxes up the stairs. The challenge was getting the bed and couch up, but due to the serum, the super-soldiers carried it with ease. But now the question: could they get the couch through the door?

"Face it, Rogers," Bucky tries to flip his hair from his eyes. "It's not going to get through the door. Let's just put it in storage or something."

"Absolutely not! This is a nice couch and I refuse to let it collect dust."

"Steve, it's just a couch."

"A four thousand dollar couch."

"Jeez, why would you spend so much money on it?"

"Well, sorry for wanting you to have nice furniture."

"I don't mean-jesus, Steve, can you get it through your head that we've wasted time trying to get this stupid thing in."

"Bucky-"

"Have you guys thought about taking off the legs?" Sam broke his silence while his eyes and thumbs never left his phone.

The two men stopped their bickering and looked at each other, then the couch, then to Sam and back to the couch. They groaned and Bucky had to set the couch down while Steve went over to his place to retrieve a screw driver. Another ten minutes and the couch was finally in the living room. Steve was lying on the floor from exhaustion, even though it was mostly Bucky doing the heavy lifting, and Sam had his eyes closed with his hands folded in his lap. Bucky screwed the legs back on and set the couch to rest on the floor.

He nudged Steve with his foot so he could move out of the way. "Come on, Rogers, up and at 'em."

The blond waves an arm at him. "No, let me lie here."

"You haven't even done much," Sam said with his eyes still closed.

"Speak for yourself," Bucky scoffed. "Now either one of you helps me or beat it."

Immediately, Sam stood up and crossed the room to the door, quickly bidding his goodbye and telling the two men to have a nice day with a laugh. Bucky sighed and looked back down to the floor where Steve still lay.

"Help me, will you?" Bucky grabbed his shoulder and lugged him up.

After pushing and pulling, turning and observing where exactly the couch should face, Bucky settled on having it face the window. Outside the window was the bustling streets, and the skyscrapers were greeting Bucky by shining their lights as the sun started to set. Bucky set to plugging in the lamps and record player, setting up a clock on the wall; he didn't set up the television, though, seeing that he still wouldn't using it anytime soon. Steve left a while later, claiming that he had a date with Sharon at the movies, and Bucky found himself in quiet solace.

Setting the needle onto a record of old jazz, Bucky got to work opening boxes and placing them in their correct places. He wasn't really one for decorating, but he felt that he needed to do something with his hands before he went insane. There wasn't really much for him to work with, just a few simple knick-knacks, a small painting and books. He opened up the box containing all his silverware and china, putting it it in the drawers and cupboards. There was something about the sound of ceramic hitting ceramic that was a bit soothing, and Bucky breathed in time everytime he set a bowl or plate down in a neat pile. On one of the plates he noticed that it had a dried, orange stain that hadn't been washed off properly, his mind lingering to that curry Natasha had brought over some nights ago. He went to turn the faucet on and let the water run over the plate while opening up another box that had cleaning supplies. He found a sponge and soap and tried to scrape off the stain. The lemony scent of the detergent wafted in the air around him and his head started to ache. It wasn't something he liked, and he remembered his mother always using-

Bucky dropped the plate in the sink, digging his palm into his eye and gritted his teeth from the the pain setting off in his head. Behind his closed eyes he could see apartment buildings in the night sky, covered by lace curtains and his mother's hands covered in soap, handing him a plate to dry. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes back up, looking down to see his own hands, wet and covered in suds. The plate had chipped, but the stain was gone. He washed his hands off and dried them along with the plate and set it on top of the stack in the cupboard. He drew another breath in, and all he could think of was his mother. From the memory, Bucky guessed that doing the dishes with her was a regular activity before the war. A thought occurred to him of what had happened to her, and he felt an unusual pang his chest before quickly his thoughts to finish unpacking.

With everything in its designated place, the super-soldier sighed and dipped himself onto the couch, looking out the window. He admitted to himself that this may have been a good decision, leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. and holding down his own place. With the source of income provided from S.H.I.E.L.D.-despite the fact that he literally did nothing- he could pay the apartment's rent and go out and buy his own food. At the thought, he craned his head to the look at the fridge in the kitchen. He didn't have any food except for a few carrots and eggs, but that was about it. Considering that he didn't exactly eat much except for his cups of coffee, the assassin would have to eat at some point.

He tried to look through the pantry and of course, there was only cereal, some saltine crackers, and two packages of ramen. With the lack of milk, he couldn't have a bowl of cereal, and he was sure to somehow ruin the ramen. Even the water could go up in flames.

Bucky munched on the crackers and sat back down on his couch, staring out the window. The crackers were dry and brittle; it was like he was chewing up dust in his mouth. He nearly choked when his phone's shrill ring startled him. He set the crackers on the table and dug his phone out of his pocket, breathing in a sharp breath when he saw it was Eva.

Swallowing thickly, he answered the phone, but before he could even utter a greeting he heard her say, "Do you like chinese takeout?"

"Hello, to you,too." He couldn't help but smile when he heard her laugh into the phone. "I guess so. Why do you ask?"

"Long story short, I have boxes of lo mein getting cold on my counter and you seem to be capable of helping me devour boxes of heart disease and high cholesterol."

"Well, if you put it that way," Bucky had to stifle back a chuckle.  _Since when did he ever chuckle?_  "Alright. Fine. Whatever. I'll eat your boxes of cholesterol."

Bucky could tell she was grinning from her side of the call. "Awesome. Do you know where that pawn shop is? By 124th and Parker?"

He pursed his lip. "I think so." He was still learning the roads and buildings, and at this point he knew enough of the metro area.

"Well, there's some apartments right above it, just buzz my name."

"I… o-okay."

"Alright, see you then!"

"Yeah. See… you. I'll see you, uh… bye, I'll see you." It was almost as if has tongue was swelling up in his mouth.

Eva laughed. "Bye, Bucky."

She hung up and Bucky still had his phone held to his ear. When he set it down beside him, he flung his back dramatically against the couch with a sigh. He rubbed his face with his hands, stomach doing somersaults and his mind yelling at him. Why was he always doing this? Why was he always getting into these sociable situations?

"God  _dammit_ ," he muttered.

* * *

Bucky stood outside the pawnshop on 124th and Parker, hands set deep into his pockets as he stared up at the brick covered apartments that seemed to have seen better days. On his walk to Eva's apartment, he left the safety and security, marching into streets that were housing the young woman and he saw and heard more.

The further he ventured into town, the more he heard of sirens echoing throughout the streets, and he heard people yelling and shouting in their town homes. The further into town, the more he saw people pushing carts of belongings they couldn't part with or wearing dirty clothes of an unpleasant odor; he saw women wearing nothing but skirts and crop tops and bright, caked makeup being eyed by men, and men or women pulling bags of white powder or pill bottles out of their oversized jackets in exchange for money. There was graffiti splattered everywhere he went, and unlike the stores around where Steve and he lived, these stores had bars on the windows.

And here Bucky was, standing at the corner of the street where 124th met Parker, staring up at the building, wondering which window was Eva's. The door to the apartments was set between the pawnshop and a convenience store and he went up the two concrete steps. Of course, the door, too, was had bars and could only be opened by a key. This whole side of D.C. was unsettling and Bucky had a hard time believing that this was where Eva resided. He hoped that he had somehow gotten lost and she accidentally told him the wrong streets, and that she actually lived on 135th and Barker. Except Bucky honestly doubted that there was a street called Barker anywhere near the city.

Blowing out the air from his cheeks, Bucky climbed the steps and to the right of him was an intercom with a list of all the residents. Eva was the eighth name on the list, apartment thirty-one. With a sharp inhale and speedy exhale, he pressed the button by her name for a few seconds and waited.

"Hello?" Eva's voice sounded after a buzz.  _Oh, God, she_ does  _live here._

"Hey… hey, it's me," he said, feeling his heart in his throat.

"Bucky! Hey, I'll buzz you in. I'm on the second floor."

With that, there was another shrill buzzing and Bucky pushed on the door and it easily swung open. He stepped inside the building, taking in his surroundings. The walls were this horrible green and the lights were this hazy orange that struggled to stay lit. There was an elderly woman sifting through her envelopes by all the mailboxes; she eyed him carefully and Bucky tried to shutter. Her eyes were this unnerving blue that made Bucky feel like she was peeling his skin off. In front of him were the stairs and he took them two at a time, hand holding onto the metal railing to keep his balance.

He got to the second floor and breathed out the breath he was holding. He flicked his eyes from side to side in search for her door. Every door was the same; they were all white, the paint peeling off, and each had gold numbers nailed on. Bucky finally came to the last door at the very end of the hall, where the side of the building face out to the open street. The door on the right was like all the other doors, except for the fact that it was missing gold numbers and had thirty-one painted on. He raised his hand to rap his knuckles lightly against the door and it opened at the third rap.

Eva's short strands of hair were askew and she was wearing her glasses. Her lips turned up in a smile and she opened the door wider.

"Hey! In. Now. I'm hungry."

He quirked his brow, stepping inside. "Please tell me you weren't waiting for me."

"And if I did?" She shut the door and rolled up the sleeves of her sweater.

He shrugged, standing in the hallway, afraid to step into the rest of the apartment.  _Afraid_? It echoed in his head. He didn't really think that this was a situation to be afraid of. After all, this was Eva. She invited him to her apartment eat lo mein and get high cholesterol, and she was being polite and it wouldn't be as if she had poisoned the food; she has no disdain towards him.

He was afraid to be in her apartment. Crap.

"Do you want me to take your jacket?" She nodded towards his him.

"Oh. Oh, sure, thanks." He handed her his jacket, thankful that he was wearing a sweater, quickly stuffing his left hand in his pocket as she hung his coat on the rack on the door.

"Kitchen is here," Eva went through the door, and Bucky had no choice but to follow.

Her kitchen was small and cramped, but the appliances and lighting weren't so bad. Peering over her shoulder to the small kitchen table, Bucky was, for the umpteenth time that month, surprised.

"Why are there so many boxes of food?" He stepped around her, staring at boxes of orange chicken and rice.

"Yeah, about that…" she rubbed her forehead and took off her glasses. "I may or may not have accidentally ordered fifteen boxes instead of three."

He turned to give her a look that said,  _What?_

She blew air out from her puffed up cheeks and held her hands up in defense. "Hey, you try saying numbers in mandarin."

"Why would you even order in mandarin? Please tell me english wasn't too hard."

"I wanted to see if I could do it."

Bucky turned back towards the table. "At least you won't go hungry for a while."

She laughed behind him, opening a drawer to pull out two forks. She handed him the two and took two glasses from a drying rack. She asked Bucky if he wanted water and he politely accepted, holding the forks close to him as he watched her pull out a pitcher from the fridge.

"In the kitchen or the living room?" Eva asked.

"I… your call."

"We could watch some re-runs while we eat?"

"Sure."

Eva's living room was to the right of the kitchen table and he helped carry the boxes into the room. Her living room was small too, like her kitchen. The one thing that struck him was the piano in the corner, then the shelves and shelves of books. The windows were open, letting cold air in and the lace curtains flutter. There was also a television across the couch, and the couch was floral and old, something out of a picture of a fifties home. He set the food on the coffee table and crossed the room to shut the windows by the piano, and the curtains settled. Bucky shifted his attention to the piano. It was old, just like everything else in the apartment, but when Bucky pressed a key, it rang like it was freshly tuned. He looked up, expecting Eva to pop out from the kitchen, but she didn't.

He sat down on the bench, running his right hand over the keys before pressing down on them, playing a little melody that kept running through his head. He hit some notes that didn't belong, only he corrected them and he closed his eyes, quietly playing.

"Are you playing  _Pastel Garden_?" Eva held the rest of the boxes. "By Brian Crain?"

He quickly stopped and stood up, nearly knocking the bench over, and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

She smiled, "He's one of my favorites."

He nodded, a smirk playing on his lips as he took a box Eva held out for him. "Do you mind if I take the other boxes home?"

A look of relief washed over her face. "Can you, please?"

His smirk turned into a grin, and he pulled his sleeve down to cover his left hand to hold the box, because it was hot and so she wouldn't be able to glance at the metal. He stood by the window, looking out and munching on his food while Eva pulled out a DVD from her collection. The fork slipped from his hands, clattering beside his feet, and he stooped down to pick it up. Movement from the other corner of the living room caught his eye, and Bucky looked up to see a large, fat blob of fur with two sunken eyes staring back at him, laying on a cushion.

"Eva?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question?" Bucky rose up slowly, not able to take his eyes off of the thing staring back at him.

"And what may that be?"

"What  _is_  that?"

Eva followed his gaze and had to look over the couch; she laughed lightly to herself.

"Oh, that's Archie."

"Archie?" Bucky looked at the creature with his brows raised.

"My dog. I've had him since I was twelve; he's old. He's blind in one eye and losing his hearing."

Bucky nodded.  _Wow,_ he thought,  _she ordered fifteen boxes of chinese takeout and has a blob for a dog._


	8. Vanilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos you guys! :) Please keep those and the comments coming!!! :)

"Are you getting tired?" Steve looked at his friend with a smirk.

Bucky snorted, trying to keep up his pace on their jog. Well, it wasn't so much as a jog as more of a marathon because of their unnatural speed around the park. He didn't want to admit it, but Bucky's calf muscles were screaming for him to stop and take a break, which was another piece of evidence that Bucky was, indeed, out of shape.

After Steve's insistent knocking on his front door that morning, Bucky was forced to open up with a scowl on his face and to put on his running shoes and sweatshirt. They were taking laps around the The Mall in the early morning, and very few people were around. It didn't cause Bucky to be overly cautious, and the cold air helped him wake up from the sleep-the nightmares, really- that was still in his eyes.

"No, are you?" Bucky retorted.

With a roll of his eyes, Steve replied, "Yeah, right. I must be faster you, then."

"In your  _dreams_ , gramps."

"You're the same age as me."

"So?"

"Well, you're forgetting that I had the serum."

"I had the serum, too, idiot."

"You won't let me have my moment, will you?"

"You've had your moment many times. Remember New York?"

There was a pause, and then he sighed. "Okay, you got me."

The two men ran for another fifteen minutes in silence. Bucky let his mind drift as he ran, focusing on the way he was breathing and how his feet hit the ground, how far apart his legs were from each other. In a way, he did appreciate Steve dragging him out of the warmth of his bed (which made the blond seem a bit cruel). Running made him feel free, it made him forget everything. Nightmares, memories, shitty days filled with stress and terrible anxiety. They didn't exist when all he could feel was the air whipping around his face.

"So are you going to tell me about the other night or not?" Steve panted, turning to look at his friend.

Bucky nearly faltered in his step, shooting the blond a rather annoyed look. So much for running in peace.

"What's there to know?"

"Come on," Steve tried to prod the soldier. "You were with Eva."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, and from Bucky's silence, Steve knew that he was right.

With a sly grin, he asked, "What'd you guys do?"

He groaned. "Okay, first of all, none of your business. Second of all, how'd you even  _know_  that I was gone? I thought you were on your date."

"I  _was_  on my date. I went home early, though; Sharon ate some bad nachos which I  _knew_  were a bad idea, but she ate them anyway despite what I said and, God, she should've listened and we would've found out what had happened at the end of the mov-"

"Steve."

"-ie and… Oh, right, anyway. I came back home, and I thought I'd check up on you, but when I went to your apartment, you weren't there. Of course, I panicked, thought something happened, but then I remembered your girl."

"She's  _not_  my girl. And how the hell did you get in my apartment?"

"Spare key."

Bucky's side glance of irritation made Steve's grin grow wider. "Punk."

"Jerk."

Bucky could see the little twinkle in Steve's eyes at the exchange of the familiar, yet childish, insults.

"So what did you two do?" He gave Bucky a look. The blond wasn't about to let this go.

"Don't you give me that look. We weren't doing anything."

"So you guys weren't… smooching?"

" _Jesus_ , Steve. What's wrong with you? I was having dinner at her place."

Their run had gradually turned into a walk. Steve could feel the exasperation radiating off the brunet. He stole another look through the corner of his eye and tried to suppress the smile. Even though Bucky kept putting barriers up around the mention of Eva, Steve knew that there was a change, despite that it was significantly miniscule, inside him. A nice change. He wasn't as reserved like he originally was some months ago; Bucky had a tiny spark that had been ignited. And Steve knew that gradually, with his exposure to society, i.e. Eva, Bucky would be changing for the better.

Hopefully.  _Hopefully._

However there was something strange about Bucky whenever the girl was brought up. Or rather he acted strange. He got defensive. He became hard as stone. He shied away. All because of a librarian. If he was acting in such a way, then Steve could only assume that…

"You like her."

Bucky stopped in his track, narrowing his eyes into slits so small that Steve thought that his eyes were closed.

"No. No, I don't."

"But-"

"No. No.  _No_."

"Come on, it's clear as glass."

"Not unless you have a dirty glass," he retorted, resuming their walk.

Steve blocked his path. "But you said that you're fond of her!"

"Yeah.  _Fond_. Very different from liking," he shot back as he nudged the captain aside.

Steve sighed, taking that as an end to the subject and strolled along with him. They never went back to their run, only walked. The sun rose higher into the sky and more people started to come to the Mall as tourists or joggers. There were people in their cars driving to their jobs, places they had to be. Steve. He had somewhere to be, a job with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Bucky had… well, he had no where to be. He had books, records, a couch, and a library card to occupy his time. Even if he moved across from Steve, that didn't take away his days filled will nothing.

Unless he took up that job offer from Steve. Then maybe he'd have  _something_ to do. He wouldn't be so damn bored. Bucky could be out  _there_  with Steve kicking Hydra ass. But for the moment, he would keep going to the library and argue more on how Daisy was using Gatsby with Eva or beat Sam in something as stupid as arm wrestling. He'd probably keep getting himself into weird meetups with Eva and…

"Holy  _shit_ ," Bucky hissed, backing away and running towards a tall bunch of bushes.

Steve looked at him as if he had grown another head. He ran up to his friend, who hopped over the bushes and ducked beneath them, crouching low and out of sight. Steve peered over the large plants with confusion splayed across his face.

"Are you going to explain what you're doing?"

With a woosh, Bucky grabbed Steve by the collar and pulled him over the bushes, making him fall beside him with a grunt. He held the blond by his shoulder and clamped his other hand against his mouth.

" _Shut up_ ," Bucky whispered urgently. "Don't let her hear you!"

Steve shoved his hand away from his face. "What are you talking about? Don't let who hear me?"

Bucky slowly rose his head from behind the bushes, his eyes filled with fear. Fear. There it was again, infecting him like a parasite. He hated being afraid, but in this case, it didn't matter because he actually had a reason to be. Steve followed Bucky's movements and rose his to look over the bushes, following his gaze. A few meters away, where some trees and benches were, was a young woman sitting down with a book in her lap. Steve raised a brow, still confused, but when he looked at Bucky again, realization dawned his face.

"That's her," he said with a small smile. "That's Eva, isn't it?"

He only nodded, never taking his eyes off her. His heart was going fifty miles an hour, but he didn't have time to question it. She had her reading glasses on, and a backpack resting beside her, and Bucky could only guess that maybe she had classes today.

"We need to leave," Bucky said all of a sudden.

"What? Why?"

"Because I don't want her to see you!"

"Why not?"

Bucky pushed Steve's head down when he tried to stand. "I'm not letting  _Captain America_  waltz right up to her. You're going home."

"Oh, come on, Buck…"

"Sorry, but you're going home right  _now_."

Steve sighed. The brunet was giving him a look of plead, and Steve could only submit to his friend's wishes.

He held his hands up as a message of defeat. "Fine, but you owe me a sandwich and a drink."

"Alright, now get out of here."

Steve gave him a smile and a mock salute, getting up and finishing his run towards Independence Avenue. Bucky slumped his shoulder with a sigh, leaning against the bushes. He rubbed his face with his hands and groaned. Of all days, Steve just had to make him get up for a run on  _this one_. He peered around the edge, seeing that Eva was still there in the same position; if it weren't for her flipping the pages of the book, Bucky would've thought she was a statue. Perfect stillness and focus. It made Bucky smirk and reminded him of his own missions and the hours of patience and being in the same position. Except Eva was reading instead of assassinating.

Big difference.

He wanted to crouch behind the bushes and stay there until she left, but who knew how long that would be. He knew the girl; she'd stay there for hours if she had a good book in her hands, and she looked like she was enjoying her time skimming and reading. Something in the back of his head wanted him to get up and go up to her. Say hello. Ask how she was or what she was reading. Bucky kind of wanted to.

He wanted to. 'Want' still felt foreign to him. Before he had abandoned Hydra, Bucky wasn't able to feel want or make any of his own decisions. Even if it had been several months, it was still hard to make a decision or actually want something. Whether Bucky had realized it or not since he had met Eva, he made his own decisions. He called the shots. He actually  _wanted_  to follow his own thoughts-not the Soldier's thoughts, his  _own_. Bucky's thoughts.

Which was why Bucky got up, brushed the leaves and dead grass from his running shorts, and left his spot from the bushes. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, walking towards Eva. His head was controlling his legs, but his gut was telling him to run for it, save him from whatever unrealistic fear. It was too late, though, because his mouth started to move.

"Eva."

She smiled right before she looked up, recognizing his voice. She took off her glasses and folded them. "Good morning."

He didn't have a reason as to why his throat ran dry. "Morning."

"Enjoy your run?" Bucky shot her a confused look. "You have athletic wear on."

Bucky felt himself flush. "Oh… right."

Eva scooted over, making room for him to sit down beside her on the bench. He took the small invitation and sat down, trying to keep a safe distance between them. She crossed her legs, shutting her book closed and putting it to the side. Bucky noticed that for once she remembered to wear a hat and scarf. Her nose was pink from the chill in the air, and Bucky was starting to rethink his decision on wearing his shorts instead of track pants.

"Thanks… for dinner the other night," Bucky said. He wanted to fill the silence with…  _something_ , because he did, after all, walk over from his hiding spot.

Eva tried to hide her smile. "I should probably be thanking you. You pretty much saved me from eating takeout for the next week or so."

He laughed a bit. He did appreciate the food; it kept him from having to cook for a few days, and Bucky really didn't mind eating the same thing for a while. When he was under Hydra's control, he ate the same, bland food day in and day out-that is when Hydra actually remembered to feed him.

"It's not that bad," Bucky told her.

Eva made a look of distaste and he couldn't help but notice the way her nose crinkled.

"I only resort to it if an emergency. That case was just because I forgot to go grocery shopping and it was late at night."

Bucky tried to stomp down the feeling of ferment at her words, but a bit glad that she chose to stay inside her apartment. If he could, he'd try to pick apart her brain to figure out how she even ended up living in such an area. Money, he guessed. After taking in the environment and the quality of her possessions and home, it just had to be money. Bucky didn't know how much librarians were paid, but whatever money she was making was helping her keep a roof over her head.

Eva caught the soldier's attention when she stood up, picking her backpack up from the ground by the strap. "Sorry to cut this short, but I really need to catch the three-twenty. Class starts a quarter to nine."

"Three-twenty? The bus?"

She gave him a funny look. "Is there any other way?"

"Oh," Bucky felt a bit stupid. "I sort of assumed you drove."

She gave him a small smile and shook her head. "I don't… drive. Public transportation. Always there for me."

He had to stop the frown from taking over his face. She took public transportation and lived in a rundown neighborhood. Did she have  _any_  regard for her own safety?

"I'll walk you." He stood up and took her backpack from her, slinging It over his shoulder.

"Bucky, you don't need to-"

"I want to," he said lightly, giving her a half-smile to assure her that it was alright. "I'm heading home anyway."

Eva arched her eyebrow, chewing on her lip and Bucky could tell that she felt a bit guilty when she eyed her bag in his grip. Eventually, she sighed and gave in with a smile, letting the Winter Soldier walk her to the bus stop.

* * *

_The pounding of Bucky's heart and sound of blood rushing through his veins impaired his ability to hear anything else. And his eyes were clouded from smoke, while his skin was reddening from the heat in the room. Flames licked at him and the wounds on his arms and neck bubbled with the sting of the torridity of the warehouse. Even the dog-tags on around his neck were heating up and scathing his chest through his shirt._

_But the fire… the endless fire below him was all he could think about, as well as the careful steps he took across the fallen beam to where there was escape. The explosions wracked the facility and Bucky thought his heart was going to burst through his chest when the beam started to descend slowly. His legs were as heavy as lead and he hoped to whatever power on earth that he could get to the other side. It wasn't just him, he had hoped, but the kid he had thought was touring America, singing and dancing. Bucky turned back to look at Steve, who looked just as hopeful while he stood from the opposite direction of the beam, urging the brunet to go on._

_Steve's eyes were saying, "Go on, you can make it. I_ believe  _in you."_

_The beam, however, shook and began to fall into the pit of fire and Bucky had no choice but to run. He made the jump, his foot catching onto the ledge and his hand tried to grab onto the railing, but his fingertips only brushed the hot metal. And with a gasp, Bucky fell, and he can hear Steve's screams for him as he fell into the endless pit of flames._

_It wasn't supposed to end like this, Bucky thought._

_But instead of hitting the flaming floor, his back hit cold metal. Bucky tried to move his arms and legs, but they were bound by leather straps. He smelled something that was metallic and rusty, making his stomach turn with a terrible pain on his left arm. He tried to flex his left hand, but he couldn't… he couldn't feel_ anything _. His eyes pricked and he tried to crane his head to his side. It was gone. Bucky's left arm was missing, and all that was left were the nerves and the bone of his shoulder peeking out, covered in blood the seeped out and drenched his body and the table. He opened his mouth, a pained and shocked scream clawing out from the inside of his throat and out into the open room._

_A cold, unwelcoming hand held his right shoulder and he darted his crazed eyes to an unfriendly man._

" _You will shape the century," he hissed, teeth bared in a vicious smile while his glasses-clad eyes stared into Bucky's frightened ones._

_The pain was too much and Bucky closed his eyes, trying to shut out the vision of the man with glasses. He gritted his teeth and a wet warmth, tears he realized, rolled down his dirty cheeks and into his mouth which gaped every now and then when there were spasms of pain. He tasted the saltiness from his hot waterworks. And the pain went from the tearing of his arm to electricity. Electricity surged through his body, through his head. He was so overcome with the incredible pain that Bucky's eyes flew open, eyes threatening to bulge out and pop like grapes. All he could see were the lights above him, so strong and bright that he couldn't see the green room. He couldn't see the cold, piercing blue eyes that were sneering down at Bucky's convulsing body which were wracking with screams._

_And then it was over. All of it was over, the electricity, the eyes bearing down at him, the fire, the cold table. All of it was gone. But the pain was still there; he could still feel the pain tearing apart every muscle, every shred of life in him. Bucky wanted to die. He wanted to die, either by a bullet to the head or by a cyanide pill. He didn't care as long it ended._

_Footsteps echoed and every limb in his body went rigid with fear that they had come back to him, to resume their torture, their experimentation. And then he felt whoever kneel beside him, and the person brought a scent that instantly set him at ease, at peace. The aroma was familiar, lovely, like vanilla. Then there were the hands, soft and warm and welcoming, touching his face and running through his tangled, sweaty hair. He cried. He didn't know why, but he started to cry. The hands moved and caressed his face and wiped away the tears._

_Bucky's pain seemed to lessen at her touch. Her. She. This person who smelled of vanilla was a she. And every gentle touch she laid on his face, he would lean into it. He yearned for something so gentle as she._

" _It's okay," her voice met his ears like satin. It was soothing and filled with warmth. "It's okay."_

" _It hurts," he could barely whisper._

_She knelt close to Bucky, and he felt arms-her arms- wrap around him and pull him close. She was warm and her scent was stronger near her hair, which was where it met the nape of her neck. He leaned his face into her scalp, inhaling and feeling his heart slow, relaxed. He moved his arms, flesh and what was now metal, and wrapped them around her small body as if she would slip away. He wanted nothing more than to stay just like this._

" _I'm here," she whispered._

* * *

Bucky was alone, covered in a thin sheet of sweat. And he was alone, with the ticking clock and his breathing. His bedroom was warm as well as his bed, but he was cold and shaking. His tired eyes flicked up to the digital clock on the nightstand, flashing green numbers. It was three in the morning.

He took in a shaky breath and exhaled it, turning his head to dig his head in his pillow and pulled his blanket up closer to him. He shut his eyes, going back to sleep.

All he could think of was a soft voice and the smell of vanilla.


	9. The Winter Soldier and His Little Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS! Thanks to those who reviewed/gave kudos for the last chapter! And Happy (late) thanksgiving! Things are getting busy and I can't believe it's almost December. DAMN. Thanks to the people who recently followed or added this to their alerts. You guys rock :)

The middle of November was very cold, however it had yet to bear snow; so, for the most part, it was just rain. Bucky was relieved when he left the apartment, finding that today wouldn't be the day he'd have to trudge through the slush. He didn't do so well in the cold. Bucky hated the snow and the chill it brought with it, not to mention painful memories. Before Steve found him, Bucky barely managed to escape hypothermia while on the run, and he'd have to huddle around a measly fire. Hydra may have trained him to become a first-class assassin, but they didn't train him very well on surviving on his own. They thought he would always come crawling back, so they never thought it was necessary for their asset.

Of course, they were wrong.

And so Bucky buried himself within the layers of his sweater and coat, along with the one too many scarves bundled around his neck, and a warm pair of gloves. His breath fogged up every time he breathed. Everyone else in the block was dressed for the weather, but Bucky may have been carried away. Maybe just a teeny bit. At least he wouldn't freeze; Steve already beat him to it.

Bucky sipped his coffee from his large travel mug, the liquid piping hot. He scorched his throat as he swallowed, but didn't pay any mind; the coffee was good and he was cold. When he left his apartment, he made sure to stop by the deli that Steve had brought him a few days before to buy a turkey pastrami sandwich, as per request of Eva. He still had yet to pay her back for dinner, and called her while he put on his coat to ask what she liked to eat. Bucky bought himself a sandwich, too, when he saw the man behind the counter making Eva's sandwich and couldn't help but submit when his stomach growled. Every day, it seemed that Bucky's taste in food was broadening and all he could think about how it was a great time to be alive every time he dug into a Five Guys' burger or Domino's pizza.

But then the super-soldier encountered a problem on his way to the library.

He was walking down the street, sipping his coffee and keeping the paper bag of sandwiches close to his side, eyes on the ground so he wouldn't have to make any awkward eye contact with any passersby. When the former assassin walked past the small alley between the diner and candle store, there was a sudden crash. Usually this made Bucky's survival instincts kick into overdrive, causing him to drop everything and bolt in the opposite direction or scale the walls of a store. Only Bucky paused in mid-step and took a few steps back, peering into the dark, damp alley with curiosity. Along the fire exit of the diner were trash cans that had been knocked over and old crates that have been forgotten to be cleaned out by the garbage men, the stench of the week's old entrees wafting through the air. That wasn't what had caught Bucky's attention. It was the wooden crate turned face down. And it was  _moving._

With cautious steps, Bucky walked closer to the crate. He could hear scratching noises from the inside and soft mews. He crouched down, his eyebrows scrunched together while he extended a tentative hand. When he lifted the crate a centimeter off the ground, a small, furry head of a cat popped out. He raised his brows in surprise, fully removing the crate off the feline who happily slipped out from under the wooden age. The cat blinked at him, blue eyes shining bright while it turned its attention onto the chicken bones that were knocked out of the trash can.

It sniffed the bones, trying to find some sort of meat that may be left. Bucky watched with interest. He'd seen cats, of course, but not like this, not so close in their natural state… whatever their state was. The cat had long, thick gray fur that looked almost black from the filth that it was living in. Its little black nose wiggled around the bones as it looked for any remaining scraps of meat, and the little black jellybean toes on its paws batted the findings around. But more importantly was the cat's missing left ear. Bucky couldn't help but just stare at the missing feature of the feline; he guessed that the ear must've been taken some time ago because the fur had started to grow back and around. There was a jagged scar where the ear would've been, and one could only assume that the cat must've been attacked or in a fight with another animal.

He was captivated by the way it moved, the swishing of its tail to the twitch of its whiskers. Bucky wondered if he had ever liked cats back in the day. Guessing from what Steve had told him, he felt like the person he used to be wouldn't have taken to cats very much; he must've been a dog person. But when he watched the feline, he decided that cats seemed to a nice animal. Very reserved and not as lively like dogs. Cats were nice.

This cat must've been a stray for a while now. Bucky secretly held some respect for the gray fuzzball for staying on the streets for this long without being caught by the animal shelters; he wondered if the cat just wanted to be free despite having meals from a garbage can. He grimaced; he heard about what happened to the animals that were not adopted quick enough. He knew as well as anyone else that this cat didn't have so great of chance of getting a family. It was rare that someone would want something so mangled and pitiful. Bucky understood better than anyone else.

He stretched his hand out to the cat, but the small animal recoiled with slight fear and took a few steps back. Bucky pulled his hand back, staring down the cat and sat on his heels. The cat's eyes watched him with a mix of curiosity and fear. The more he looked, the more Bucky noticed how skinny the cat was under all that fur. He remembered the paper bag that he still clutched to his chest and opened it up. He tore a piece of roast beef from his sandwich- if he took a piece of turkey from Eva's sandwich, she would throw a book at him- and tossed it to the cat. It flinched when it saw Bucky's hand, but then when it laid its blue eyes on the small piece of beef, it stretched its neck to take a hesitant sniff. The super-soldier's lips turned up when the cat began to eat the roast beef, a low but growing purr emitting as gratitude. It licked it lips and this time, the cat walked up to Bucky, rubbing its long body against his knees with a light purr. Bucky scratched its head, careful of the spot of the missing ear, before getting back up to stand and putting the paper bag under his arm and holding his travel mug.

Bucky stepped back out onto the street and went on his way again. Much to his dismay, he finished his coffee and he could feel the warmth in his stomach leave once the cold started to invade again. The library was still three blocks away, and all he wanted was to feel the crisp heat of the papyrus-scented air to warm up his face when he would get there.

A meow pulled him out of his thoughts.

At first Bucky thought it was the trick of the mind, that maybe the door of a store that the person to his left walked through had squeaked. Then there was a second meow that forced Bucky to turn around. Sure enough, there was the cat with the missing ear staring up at him, long tail swishing around like a reed through the wind. Bucky swiped his tongue around his teeth in thought before continuing on his way. But then it meowed again, little paws carrying itself towards the dark haired man.

Bucky had never encountered something like this. He looked past his nose at the cat and put his palm up. "Stay."

He walked away, craning his head and he wasn't surprised to see the cat following him with an insistent meow.

"Scat," Bucky tried to shoo the cat away, but it was far from leaving. "Come on, cat, go home."

He was met with another meow and with a sigh, he went back to walking. It went on like that for a while with the cat hot on Bucky's trail. People watched with amusement or with slight confusion whenever they stole a glance. After several minutes, Bucky blew out a puff of air and kneeled down before the small animal.

The cat rubbed its slim body against his knees, meowing. Bucky ran a hand across its back to which the cat happily responded by raising its back up to his palm.

"What do you want, cat?" He said. Another meow. "I can't give you anymore food."

It kept purring and lifted its two front paws to lean up on Bucky's leg. He smirked, scratching its chin.

"Who do you belong to anyway?" He must've looked insane considering he was talking to a cat.

The cat sniffed at the bag beside him. As he watched the cat, his thoughts shifted towards the animal shelters again.

He unzipped his coat and then gently picked the cat up. "C'mere, I know someone who can help figure out what to do."

Bucky pulled the cat close to his chest, who didn't put up a fuss and actually seemed to enjoy the attention, and zipped his coat over. He could feel the cat's rumbling purr as it took to the new warmth. Carefully, Bucky rose to his feet, trying to cradle the cat's weight as well as the mug and paper bag.

The walk to the library was pleasant and the cat made no fuss as it was comfortable. Bucky walked inside, relishing in the feeling of warm air hitting his face. He walked around the second floor after taking the stairs, searching for the short haired girl. Eva wasn't carting around or stamping books like she usually was. An kind looking, elderly woman was stamping the books that day, and Bucky timidly asked her about where Eva was off.

"Ms. Zolnerowich children's area," she said, looking disdainfully at the lump in his coat; her looks of kindness proved to be deceitful. "Just left of the staircase."

He thanked her, turning on his heel and went to the other side of the floor. It occurred to the former assassin that this was the first time he had heard Eva's surname. It was russian.

Bucky had never been in the children's section, and he suddenly had a reason. It was overly colorful. There was a large fake tree with small hand prints splattered all over, and odd looking animals littering the walls and bookcases. But eventually he found her sitting in a chair in front of a small crowd of children, a Dr. Seuss book in her hands. Bucky smirked, leaning against a bookcase and watched with mild amusement; Eva read the books out loud, looking content at the children's expressions. She seemed in her place and even Bucky felt relaxed with his gaze fixated on her. However, the cat's fidgeting pulled him out of the trance.

Eva finished reading the last page aloud and the children clapped or groaned, wishing that it hadn't ended. Her eyes flickered up and she gave Bucky a small wave.

"Alright, kiddos," she stood up, brushing off the non-existent dust on her jeans. "Back to your parents. You can all come back next week for  _Biscuit the Dog_."

The children dispersed, running back to their waiting mothers or fathers who stood by patiently. Eva beelined for the super-soldier, a light smile on her face.

"Hi."

"Hey." He held out the paper bag. "Got you lunch."

She took it gratefully before trailed her eyes down to his chest, brows beginning to furrow. "Are you wearing a thousand sweaters under that?"

"Nope," he said, reaching up to undo the zipper.

Eva's eyes widened and she laughed incredulously, holding her hand over her mouth as the cat popped its head into view. Bucky was quickly dragged between two bookcases, out of view from the other librarians and people. He managed to get the cat free from the restraints of his coat, but still held it close to his chest; it only purred, eyeing the girl curiously.

"You know animals aren't allowed in the library," Eva said pointedly even though she extended her hand to pet its head.

"I didn't know what to do, okay?" He sighed. "The thing kept following me. I couldn't just leave it."

"Who knew you were such a softie," she cooed. Bucky threw her an annoyed glance.

"Har, har."

"You know I don't mean anything by it."

"I know, but maybe I am just a little bit."

The cat rubbed its head up against Eva's palm, relishing the attention it received. Eva had a slight frown on her face when her fingers ghosted over the place of where the ear would be.

"Poor thing," she scratched its chin. "Must've gone through hell when it lost it."

"Yeah." Bucky looked down in thought.

Eva pulled her hand away, looking up at Bucky expectantly. "You're going to have to bring it to the animal shelter, Bucky."

He grimaced and shook his head. "I can't do that."

"It can't live on the streets. Maybe a nice family will be willing to adopt?"

"No, they won't. Families want nice, healthy looking cats. Cats that aren't missing limbs or appendages. Normal cats."

_People who want normal people,_  Bucky sadly thought to himself.

"If we bring the cat to the shelter and no one adopts it," Bucky continued. "Then it'll get put down."

Eva chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Then what should we do?"

Bucky looked down at the fuzzball in his arms, feeling slightly helpless. He held the cat tighter to him out of protectiveness and finalized his thoughts.

"I'll take care of the cat," he said.

"Are you sure?" Eva gave him a wary glance. "You don't have to if you don't want to, Bucky."

He gave her a sure nod. "I want to."

* * *

"I bought some things to get the little furball settled," Eva said after Bucky opened his apartment door and took some Petco bags from her hands. Bucky had left the library shortly after to let Eva finish her shift. He asked her to come to his apartment to help him figure out the basic steps to taking care of a pet.

She kicked her shoes off and looked around the small hallway. "Nice place."

"Thanks." He lead her to the living room to where the cat was idly laying beside the fireplace. "I'll pay you back for all-"

"Don't worry about it," Eva waved her wand with a smile and moved to sit down by the cat. Bucky was about to argue with her, only she cut him off again, "You can pay me back with a cup of tea."

The brunet rolled his eyes and turned to the kitchen. "Lucky for you, I have a box of Earl Gray that's never been consumed."

Eva glanced at him from beneath her eyelashes and just smiled, turning back to the cat. Bucky filled the kettle and set it on the stove, pulling out two mugs and putting a tea bag in one while he scooped two spoons of coffee grounds into the other. He leaned against the counter, setting his left hand deep into his pocket while the other ran through his tangled locks; he needed a shower. The cat was in Eva's lap, purring contently as Bucky watched the two in thought. It had only just occurred to him that this was the first time she'd ever set foot in his apartment, and for some odd reason, he wasn't stressing out. In fact, he was more at ease. He wasn't sure if it was because of the cat or that Eva just had a pleasant air around her. Maybe it was both.

With the cat still in her lap, Eva reached for one of the bags next to her, pulling out a soft-looking brown bed and set it beside the fireplace. "This was on sale. It's really soft and durable and machine-washable, so if she accidentally pisses on it, then it won't be a problem."

Bucky's brow perked up and took the kettle off the stove. "She?"

"I checked her… y'know." Eva shrugged.

Bucky nodded, pouring hot water into his and Eva's mugs. He pulled the sleeve of his left arm farther down to cover up his finger before picking up his own mug, the other being held in his right. He sat himself down beside Eva's left, holding out her mug.

"Thanks," she said and took the mug from him, blowing over it lightly and taking a sip. "Have you named her yet?"

He shook his head after taking a sip of his coffee. "Nope."

"Any ideas?"

"Nothing." Bucky set his mug down beside him on the floor and watched the cat leave the two to explore the space of his living room. "You can name her if you want."

Eva chewed on her lip, something Bucky noticed every time she was thinking. He noticed the small scars around her lips and how she'd just chew it raw. She seemed to think often if it came down to having a partly swollen bottom lip. Bucky tried to force the heat in his cheeks to go down before they became apparent after realizing how focused he was on her face.

"Maya," Eva said with a light smile.

"Maya?"

She looked up at him with the same smile. "After Maya Angelou, the poet. She's one of my favorites. And plus she looks like a Maya."

He turned back to look at the slick black cat again and after a moment, he nodded. "Maya it is."

While Maya wandered and Eva continued to sip on her tea, Bucky got up and started to look through what Eva had bought for the cat. There were two bowls-one for food and one for water- and a bag of dry cat food. A small cat box and cat litter were in another with a small little scoop. A collar, a brush, tick medicine and some pet shampoo were in another. Bucky filled the two bowls with food and water, and upon hearing the sound of food hitting the small ceramic bowl, Maya's ears perked up and padded over with a meow.

"Please tell me we aren't going to bathe her," Bucky said as he examined the bottle of shampoo.

"Well, we're going to have to. She's been out in the streets for a long time. And speaking of which, you're going to need to to take her to a vet to get her checked out."

He sighed. It had slipped his mind that having a cat meant responsibilities. He shifted his attention to the cat, who's black coat of fur had a thick layer of dirt. How he was going to wash her was beyond him; to his knowledge, cats weren't typically fond of water. And he didn't even know  _how_  to correctly bathe an animal.

"I can give her a bath first so you can learn?" Eva suggested, watching fear bubble up in his eyes. Bucky nodded gratefully, slumping his shoulders with relief.

* * *

Later that night, after Eva had left and the whole apartment building was fast asleep, Bucky warmed up a cup of milk for himself and made sure that he had filled the cat box with litter for Maya. The small feline was quickly growing on him; it was rather unusual for a man of his character, but then Bucky remembered the day he had met Eva and how he felt the strange pull she had on him. It seemed that somewhere in his stony, frozen heart, Bucky had room for warmth.

After putting out the flame in his fireplace and turning off all the lights in his small home, Bucky padded barefoot into his bathroom and adorned his sweatpants and brushed his teeth. He could hear Maya's nails, long from not being cut, clicking against the hardwood along with a quiet meow. It was another thing Bucky had also quickly gotten used to: Maya consistently following him around. Even after the bath-which had left her in a sour mood with Eva and Bucky but a glossy, clean coat- Maya still managed to forgive her new owner and tailed him like a duckling and its mother. He vaguely remembered Eva saything earlier before she had left that cats were able to create strong bonds with their owners as well as relieve stress. And she was right about the stress; the super-soldier felt some weight, but not all of it, lift of his shoulders.

Bucky bent down and lifted the black cat into his arms, cuddling her. Yes. The Winter Soldier  _cuddled_  the cat to his chest. Eva was right. He  _was_  a softie for animals. His ears burned at the thought from slight embarrassment and was grateful that the short-haired woman wasn't around to see him like that. Maya's purr vibrated throughout her slender body; Bucky had discovered that the feline enjoyed being held and would meow constantly until she was lifted off the ground.

His blue eyes skimmed around and landed on the manila folder that had been collecting dust for a while on his dresser. Balancing Maya with one arm, he looked through the files inside, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s logo proudly decorating them. He chewed on the inside of his lip out of frustration, deep in thought as it went over contracts or maps or Hyrda's past activities. He shut his eyes and let out the sigh he had been holding. Bucky went back to the day Steve had approached him about the job offer, replaying his words over and over. A job with S.H.I.E.L.D. to track down the remainder of Hyrda was equal to throwing himself to the lions.

Bucky shoved the thought aside for another time of day and set Maya at the foot of his bed. He pulled back the duvet and shut off the lamp, resting his arm beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling. He felt the duvet dip and knew that the cat was confidently inching over to him. Her eyes shimmered through the darkness and made herself comfortable beside his chest. Bucky couldn't help the small smile that made its way onto his face; he was at peace with the fact the cat wouldn't be enduring the rest of her life in an animal shelter. Only now he'd be taking on the dirty work of being a cat owner. He was glad that Eva had bought all the necessities; he didn't know the first thing about a cat's wants and needs.

With his last few thoughts on Eva before he finally fell into a restless sleep, he had almost forgotten about finally learning her last name.  _Zolnerowich_. It was a russian name. It never struck Bucky that Eva may have a russian background. The meaning of the name was intriguing to him, though: 

_Son of the soldier._


	10. Sweet As Apple Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always, guys, for all your amazing reviews as well as following/giving kudos this story. This has to be one of my favorite chapters! And oh, god, I can't believe tomorrow is December. Only 31 days left of 2014! And good news! I got accepted to FSU as well as Lake Forest College in Chicago! I'M SO FRICKIN' HAPPY I JUST...AHHHH! Anyway, enjoy this chapter! :)

If there was another thing Bucky could add to the list of things he was absolutely terrible at, it would cooking. It was a miracle that the former assassin could at least cook bacon without burning it to a crisp. And no matter how many times he had tried to convince Eva that he'd most likely set her kitchen on fire, he had still ended up tending to the boiling apples on the stove, blood pressure rising just like the temperature of the pot. If Bucky was sent to the hospital with an ulcer, he'd blame the small brunette.

Eva was baking a pie for Thanksgiving and with Bucky keeping her company, she put him to work. He glanced up from the pot of sliced apples to look at her every minute; she was rolling out the dough for the crust, sleeves rolled up and her hands covered in flour. It was rather mesmerizing, the way her wrists flicked up and down along the rolling pin and how her shoulders moved along, the look of concentration on her face, as if this were a delicate art. Bucky didn't know much about pie (except eating it), but he supposed it could be an art.

Eva looked over her shoulder just as Bucky quickly averted his gaze back to the apples, fighting down the heat in his neck. He always found himself looking at her and still couldn't produce a reason for it.

She left her task and leaned over his shoulder to look at the pot before reaching over to turn the heat off. "They look just about done."

"So can I quit?" Bucky asked and moved the pot to the back of the stove to cool down.

She threw her head back to laugh and shook her head. "Far from it." Bucky groaned and thumped his head against the cabinet, making Eva laugh again. "We need to make the cinnamon sauce. I'll at least get it started for you."

"You shouldn't trust me with food," he mumbled. "I might end up killing your family."

She snorted, opening the fridge for the carton of milk and retrieving a small container of cinnamon. "You might be doing me a favor."

"What do you mean?" He watched her spoon out cinnamon into a saucepan and pour milk into it, adding a good amount of brown sugar.

She tucked a short strand of hair behind her ear while pulling out a wooden spoon. "My family and I… let's just say that I'm the black sheep of the herd." That earned a look from Bucky to elaborate. "Well, I guess to put it this way, my family doesn't like me because I'm not related to them."

Bucky leaned against the counter and shot her a look of surprise, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You're adopted?"

"You could sort of say that," she shrugged. Bucky wondered how she could remain so calm and casual about this. "It's a long story, so I don't know if-"

"We have a lot of time," Bucky gave her a smile of encouragement, curiosity raging inside him.

"Alright, so I when I was four, my father was killed after getting shot on the job; he was in the. FBI. Smart man, kind, a good dad from what my mother told me. My mom remarried five years after my father passed away to a man named Robert Manders. He was such a nice man and his son, David, was a teenager then and you'd think that he would ignore me, but he immediately became the brother I'd always wanted. They were both so welcoming and it felt good to have a brother who always looked out for me, y'know? But my stepfather's family were totally pissed about him marrying a russian woman and always gave them crap about it. They were so incredibly convinced that every russian was a communist, and they're all so enveloped in there perfect democracy and shit. And since I was the little girl that Robert had brought into his home, I guess that also created a bad rap for me. Every time we'd have Christmas or Thanksgiving dinner, they'd always shove me to the side since I technically wasn't 'their blood'."

"But then years passed and when I was sixteen and David was out of the house and married, we were coming home from a trip to my stepfather's cabin in Pennsylvania and…" Eva took a deep breath and Bucky was afraid to hear what she had to say next. "...and it was raining really hard. So hard that Robert couldn't see and the roads were so slippery that the car ended up skidding and turning over. We rolled down the hill and hit a tree. My mom and Robert died, and I had severe injuries; major concussion, broken arm, laceration on my forehead from the broken glass, two broken ribs. It was really fucking bad. It was so bad that I just couldn't stand riding in a car without thinking of what happened that night; I still can't step inside a car. David had me move in with him and his wife Lisa, but I always felt like a burden since there was nothing connecting us anymore. Our parents were dead, and I had no immediate family. All I had was my stepbrother, and even though his family told him to just let me live with my mother's great-aunt, David still thought of me as his punk sister and made me live under his roof."

"I still feel bad, though, since every holiday when David would force me to those stupid family gatherings, his grandparents or aunts would give him shit about it. I worked really hard in school and got a couple jobs to earn up some money so I could move out and be out of their hair. David offered to pay for school for me, but I couldn't let him. I mean, he took me into his home! How could I? Which is another reason why his family despises me because I refused the money, but if I accepted the money, then I would still be given the bad rap. So, really there wasn't any way out of it. I took two gap years so I could work three jobs and earn up enough money to go to college and afford my rent. I didn't actually go to college until I was twenty and working to become a nurse. Four years later, and here I am, still standing, going to school twice a week and working and paying my rent. I'd say I'm not doing so bad."

Bucky was silent, looking over her with astonishment. Eva was strong, he realized. He was speechless, not sure what to say or do in response. In a mere twenty minutes, he managed to get her life story and still had yet for her to learn anything about him. It was seemingly unfair, but it was something that he felt Eva should know. If she did, she'd kick him out of her life without another glance.

"Eva…" Bucky said, but then shut his mouth, unsure of what to say.

She gave him a smile and waved her hand. "You don't have to say anything, Bucky. I'm just glad you listened. Most people wouldn't."

Bucky took over the task of stirring the sauce while Eva went back to trimming the pie crust. He was left with unease and another feeling: guilt. He wasn't sure why he felt guilty; maybe because Eva was trying to maintain her happiness despite all her hardships and Bucky was stuck hating the world and everyone for what had happened. She was an energy of positivity, showing kindness and compassion for everything while the dark-haired man was an energy of negativity, taking out his pain and anger out on everyone (except Eva).

Although Bucky had a legitimate reason for his behavior, he still felt like he was being a brat. Even if he had decades of torture and brainwashing and the stripping of his very human rights, Bucky still felt that he shouldn't be given the excuse to wallow in his own ball of self-loathing. Despite the very large significance in the two friends' histories, Bucky felt and would always feel from that moment as a poor excuse of a person compared to Eva. She was better than him and he suddenly felt unworthy to be in her presence. Anyone with half a mind could see that.

But in a way, the super-soldier understood how she felt. Although it was two different scenarios, they both dealt with acceptance and rejection. Bucky understood how she felt to a degree; he knew what it felt like to be the so-called 'black sheep of the herd'.

"Are you doing anything special on Thanksgiving?" Eva's question pulled him out of his dark thoughts.

He shook his head in response, Steve was leaving the day before Thanksgiving, leaving him in Maya's company. "Just me and the cat."

It was laughable at how pathetic Bucky sounded.

Eva raised a brow. "So you're spending it by yourself? I'm sure your family would like to see you."

"Don't have a family." Bucky looked up at her with small smile. It made him numb when the words left his mouth, and his heart was pierced with a sudden poignancy.

Eva frowned a bit, before giving him a rather bittersweet smile of her own. "I suppose we're more alike than we realized."

Bucky turned back to stirring the sauce, watching it bubble and steam with a sweet aroma. He felt his left shoulder hurt and he bit back a grimace.

"I suppose we are," he finally said.

* * *

The former assassin stood next to his blond friend anxiously. Maria Hill stood rifling through maps and miscellaneous files while Nick Fury stood beside her, indifference blanketing his face. Natasha sat on a desk a few feet away, hacking or doing whatever she did best.

It seemed, in the beginning, like a wise decision for Bucky to aid in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s goal to dismantle the remainder of Hydra, only now he was unsure. Bucky wasn't sure what was holding him back. He was sure and confident in his final decision, until he had set foot into headquarters. The whole ride down in the elevator consisted of him having tense muscles and his jaw set. Steve couldn't help but wonder if his old friend was alright.

It didn't help that the blond thought it be fine to make light of the situation by teasing Bucky about his whereabouts the day before with his lady friend. It only earned a punch to the arm and an incredibly agitated Bucky. At least he hadn't used his metal arm.

Agent Hill finally found the document she was looking for among the mess on the table; for being one of the best agents in S.H.I.E.L.D., she was rather disorganized. She set it down before the dark-haired man and looked up at him with an expression of seriousness.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, Barnes?" Agent Hill asked him. "You don't have to proceed with this if you don't want to."

Steve quickly glanced at the Winter Soldier, wondering what his moves were. Ignoring the stares and swallowing back his fears and uncertainty, Bucky nodded. "I'm sure."

"Alright," she slid the four page document towards him along with a pen. A contract. "This is just explaining that there is no guarantee for your safety and if you put one of the agents in harms way or relay classified information to enemy organizations, then there will be severe consequences."

"In other words," Fury gave him a hard look. "Screw up and you'll find yourself with a new 'A'."

Bucky scowled to himself, taking up the pen and hastily signed at the bottom of the last page. "How reassuring," he muttered under his breath. He slid the contract back to the brown-haired agent. "There."

"Alright, then," she said as she slipped the packet into Bucky's file. She pulled the maps over and spread them over. "As you are now apart of this team, we need you, since you've spent decades as Hydra's dog, to help us locate their bases. We've been trying to hack into satellites or programs, tap into telephones, anything that can give us a lead. But unfortunately, luck isn't on our side."

"So far we've only achieved in finding a few bases in D.C., but everyone and everything has long been cleared out," Steve said, arms crossed firmly against his chest. "No information, no hints. Even that chair you described Is gone."

"Which, and I still fail to see why, is why you are needed," Fury added.

Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling uncomfortable with all their gazes fixed on him. "What do you know so far?"

Natasha, who had been long forgotten in the background, spoke up. "We found out... well,  _I_ managed to find out that Pierce wasn't the only head-in-command."

"Who else is in command?"

"Don't know," the redhead replied. "Too many names. It would take forever to narrow down the list. The list I pulled up is made of high ranking officers, a number that we thought were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents or members of congress. Some them are retired army officers. Lot of Soviets, too. Like I said, it'll take a while."

"In the mean time, we need to shut down whatever major bases are still under operation and retrieve files S.H.I.E.L.D. can work with," Steve said.

"And that's where I come in?" Bucky finally looked up to meet their eyes. "To find the bases?"

Agent Hill nodded. "Exactly. I know this may be a hard task, but you need to tap into that head of yours and try to recollect all the places Hydra hid you away at."

Bucky blew the air out from his mouth and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. He peered at the map of the United States and Mexico, and Europe as well as South America, notes and crosses splattered around in red or black marker. His brows knitted together, trying to search his brain for anything, something.

A light bulb flashed in his head before he shifted his gaze between Steve and Natasha. "Do you remember what you told me when you two went to that bunker in New Jersey? What Zola said to you?"

Steve gave the man a curious look. "Yeah, why?"

"He said that Hydra has always been secretly feeding crisis, along with that 'reaping war' crap. Something Hydra did allow me whenever wiping and putting me in cyro was to remember successes," Bucky explained before adding disdainfully, "Unfortunately."

"What do you mean, Barnes?" Fury stared him down with his one good eye. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Bucky tried to resist rolling his eyes. "My theory is that whenever something major happened, Hydra was around to get a front row seat." Bucky turned to the map of the United States and Mexico, pointing towards Cuba. "Nineteen sixty-one, Bay of Pigs. A plan to get Cuba to turn against President Kennedy and the United States and ally with Russia."

"But I thought Kennedy was trying to-" Maria interjected.

"Well, you thought wrong," Bucky said. "Hydra was the spark to help the Bay of Pigs. They didn't like Kennedy's views. And even though the Bay of Pigs succeeded, they didn't realize that Kennedy would still be America's idol. That's when they had to resort to other measures."

Steve's eyes widened in realization while Natasha smirked out of amusement. "Bucky...!"

"So it wasn't Lee Oswald?" Fury pressed. "Why am I not surprised..."

"May I remind all of you that I was brainwashed," Bucky scowled from irritation. He turned back to the map where he pointed back to Cuba. "My guess is that for every assassination and mission Hydra had for me, there was a base nearby. Cuba's a good start."

* * *

Steve tried to convince Bucky to come along with to Sharon's for Thanksgiving dinner, but the Winter Soldier repeatedly declined, wishing to spend his time alone. So, Steve left him alone, but told him to call If he needed anything, the two men both knowing that wasn't likely to happen.

Bucky was left with a file he was looking through at his kitchen table, trying to recognize the faces or names Natasha retrieved. It was all a blur to him of black and white with a splash of red logos. He'd grimace and could feel the acid in his stomach make its way up his throat whenever he'd remember a face or name. Those he recognized were a factor to his terrible mentality as well as physicality. All these members of the rogue organization were either rotting in their graves or alive, relishing in the torture inflicted on the dark-haired man.

Some memories flooded his head, memories he wished that could have stayed buried in the depths of his head. He clenched his teeth and swallowed thickly, trying to breathe evenly. He was miserable. He admitted that to himself. Bucky sighed and buried his face into his hands. Maya meowed, coming up to rub her head against his calf before jumping gracefully onto the table. It made him smirk, thinking of the fit Steve would have of he saw the cat on the table.

He pet the feline who stared at him with curiosity. However, his small companion couldn't take away the darkness he felt. He would still feel miserable. And then his thoughts shifted to Eva, wondering if she was holding well at her family's or if she was feeling just as miserable as Bucky was.

And she was miserable. On the other side of D.C., near Virginia, Eva was surrounded by little children, the only people who were accepting in her family. In her aunt's-well, David's aunt, she thought bitterly- large house, family members conversed during dessert. Dinner was, as usual, terrible as she spent It sitting with all the teenagers. Most of them she couldn't stand, considering that they were arrogant brats of doctors and lawyers. It was their parents that made the whole experience horrible; always asking about what she was studying, telling that she shouldn't even try, that she'd never be as as successful titles of "Doctor" or Stanford and NYU alumni.

It took all her willpower not to drive a fork into one of their eyes. At least David decided to be a cop.

Eva sighed to herself, watching her nephew and niece play with the other children. She smirked going back to the days when she was small and without a care in the world. She felt someone sit beside her on the small couch, clearing his throat.

Eva lifted her gaze to meet David's warm green eyes. "Hey."

"Hey," he crossed his arms and watched his daughter, Cara, play alone. She was the youngest of the group of children, being four. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Seeing that I've been banished here," she replied with a hint of sarcasm. "I'd say I'm having a  _wonderful_  time."

He chuckled a bit. "At least the kids like you."

"That's because they don't know what a communist is."

"Well, hopefully they won't turn out like some of their parents. Even I can't handle them."

"At least they won't accuse me of being a lesbian," she muttered.

"Sorry about that," David frowned. "I honestly didn't think that Grandma May would go  _that_  far. I'll talk to her if you want. Maybe make next holiday a bit more bearable."

"Don't. Please. That'll just give more shit to talk about and make them think I'm weak." Saying this made Eva feel and look pitiful.

It was almost a repeat of every Thanksgiving, Christmas, or whatever holiday spent with David and the family: Eva getting bashed at, retreating to where no one could spew nasty comments, and David finding her in the end to at least lighten her mood. This year, however, didn't end with Eva being in a better mood. David consoling her only made her dig deeper into her own little cloud of darkness. It didn't help her try to come out of her dark head after Grandma May pointed to Eva's head of short hair and accused her of homosexuality. Not that Eva had anything against people of different sexualities, but it did put her into humiliation after hearing the many snickers and side-comments. If only they knew  _why_  she had short hair. If only they knew  _who_ made her come to that irrational, impulsive decision.

If only they knew how much her-no,  _David's_ , family made her feel like absolute shit. It seemed that all hope to pull her out of that abyss of misery was put out like a flame. What was the point of being there on Thanksgiving when Eva had nothing to be thankful for? She was thankful for David and Lisa and his two children, of course, but how could she feel thankful for the existence of these people? If anything, she'd be dancing on their graves.

She'd rather spend her Thanksgiving with someone who she was thankful for. Maybe with someone who felt as lonely as she was. She smiled to herself remembering the day before and what he said about not having a family. And she knew… she knew that he must be lonely at this very moment.

"I think I'm going to head home," Eva got up, David rising along with her.

"Are you sure?" She nodded. With a sigh, David pulled his stepsister in for a hug. "Take care, brat."

"Ass," she muttered into his shoulder, a hint of a smile taking over her lips.

After giving hugs to her niece and nephew, Charlie, Eva made sure to retrieve her pie tin from the dessert table before leaving. It only had a slice left and she knew that even though everyone hated her from the bottom of their terrible hearts, the bastards loved her apple pie. Eva took the two-forty bus, pie in her lap and thumbs twiddling away, sure of her decision to just show up at his door out of the blue. She knew he wouldn't mind. They liked each other's company. Eva actually seemed to find herself liking his company more than she did her friends' or David's. It was strange, she thought, but she wasn't really one to question.

After twenty minutes, the bus came to its stop and Eva got off, pulling her coat closer against the cold air. She turned at the corner and the brick building came into view and she stepped inside, going up to the second floor where she knew he'd be. She remembered which apartment was his; it wasn't hard since it was the first door just left of the staircase. Without hesitation she knocked and waited, hearing footsteps as well as a meow on the otherside.

Bucky opened the door, his expression evolving from stress to surprise. He didn't even count on the small brunette standing in his doorway with a slice of pie. Before he could even ask what she was doing at his apartment, she beat him with her explanation first.

"We're both miserable," Eva said. "I've been feeling like shit all afternoon and I can bet you all the money I have that you must be feeling just the same. But not only that, we're both feeling pretty lonely right now. I know loneliness better than most people, and for some reason whenever I look at you, Bucky, I can see that you must understand, too. I don't want to be lonely, and I don't want you to either. What's the point of me spending my time with people who barely care about me when I can spend it with someone I  _know_  who cares about me, where I can spend it with someone  _I_ care about."

Eva took a deep breath, and Bucky couldn't help but stare at her with mild shock and his heart suddenly hammered painfully in his chest. Eva looked up at him with her dark brown eyes and continued in a quiet voice.

"Thanksgiving is about being thankful for what you have," she said softly. "And I'm thankful for you, Bucky, for being my friend. So, let's say we have this last slice of pie?"

He suddenly had her in his arms, buried into his chest as he hugged her. Bucky's heart thudded quickly, and he was sure that Eva could hear it; it thudded faster when she retaliated by wrapping her arms around his waist. The Winter Soldier had never cared much for holidays, but he knew that this was probably the best Thanksgiving he had ever had in seventy years.

He had to eventually break the embrace, despite a small part of him didn't want to, and met her face with a genuine smirk. "So… you said there's pie?"


	11. Back in the Field

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! THanks for the comments! They make me so, so, so happy! And I'm sorry for posting so late. I got caught up in work and finals and all that stuff. That and major writer's block. I hope you all had a lovely holiday and New Years. Enjoy this chapter!

Bucky sat in the chopper beside Steve, trying not to revert back to his original state before the blond had brought him to S.H.I.E.L.D. months before. It was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same when his skin itched beneath his old uniform that he'd worn so many times in the past; however it had been slightly modified to hold more space for throwing knives, Bucky's weapon of choice. It had surprised Bucky, that Friday at midnight, after coming to the base to have Natasha throw the dark bundle of his uniform at him. He'd thought he'd never see it again, and when he and the others went to suit up, Bucky tasted something foul. As if something evil and unwelcoming had pulsed his veins.

Steve was once again going over the plan for the millionth time, but Bucky had tuned him out, only waiting for orders from Agent Hill in the front of the chopper. He already knew what the plan was: get in, search the base, take down any threat, find and retrieve any data. Simple. He remembered the plan the minute Agent Hill had went over it the day prior. It took all his willpower to tell the blond to give it a rest.

Bucky distracted himself from Steve and Natasha conversing quietly, looking over the gun in his hand. It had been quite some time since he had held a lethal weapon in his hands. He ran a finger over the barrel, quickly assessing its model. It was a Glock Nineteen, nine millimeters, made in Austria, twenty shots. He had its twin in the other holster of his belt, along with several magazines in his pockets. Even though it was on safety, Bucky couldn't help but skim his pointer finger over the trigger. He could see Natasha's fiery hair and Steve's blinding smile through the corner of his eye, and he suddenly saw himself in his mind rising up from his seat and pulling the trigger on the two of them before anyone could blink. It could be so easy, so quick. And the thought that Bucky could do it so easily made him nauseous.

Steve flashed his friend a worried look. "Alright, Buck?"

"Fine," he nodded, breathing in through his nose.

Minutes were passed in silence after the small exchange of words. Bucky glanced out the small window, seeing land steadily approach at the dead of night. It was around two in the morning and the ocean below was black against the stretch of the night sky. The chopper crossed over the whole of the Parque Nacional de Cienaga Zapata, or roughly translated to Swamp Shoe National Park, only no one really called it that. The chopper slowly descended the sandy beach just southeast of the Bay of Pigs; one could easily spot it. It was a spot that had no inhabitants whatsoever, and no surveillance.

"Now, we want this clean and smooth," Agent Hill said, opening up her laptop and placing a headset on. "Get in and out. Spend no more than an hour."

Steve nodded, pulling the hood of his suit over his face. With another nod towards Natasha and Bucky, he slud the chopper door open and jumped out, landing gracefully onto the sand. Bucky had taken lead as soon as they crossed into the area heavy with trees and vegetation. The deeper the team of three ventured, the more flashbacks came. The mission depended on Bucky's memory, and he'd stop every few yards, remembering small details before continuing on. Bucky had stopped at a tree stop near a rock that resembled a human head; he remembered that a man had been shot here the last time Hydra was had occupied the area. The flashback was clear to him, especially since it was  _him_  that had shot the man.

Shaking his head, Bucky picked up where he left off with Steve and Natasha close on his heels. He cut through the low branches, jumped over rocks and fallen trees, Steve doing the same; however, Natasha, despite her agility and stamina, had a harder time with nature.

"You sure you know where you're going, Barnes?" Natasha asked, picking a twig out of her hair.

"Yes," he answered without looking back.

"How far in do you think it is?" This time it was Steve.

"It's close."

Natasha sighed. " _How_  close?"

Bucky looked over his shoulder to shoot her a glare. "It's close. I know what I'm do-"

The sound of his boot hitting metal echoed clearly, and the ex-assassin jumped back quickly, hand drawing to his holster. Steve and Natasha stopped their jog before they could crash into him. Bucky stared down at the ground below him, tilting his head to the side. His eyes flickered around his surroundings quickly, and he drew out his gun out of precaution. Extending his foot again, Bucky set his weight on the ground once more, and a metallic creaking emitted from the earth. If it was earth, that is.

"Something's here," Bucky said, crouching down and swiping his hand over the ground to move the shrubbery and dirt.

"Do you think this is it?" Steve asked his friend as he and Natasha both crouched down and moved the rest of the dirt.

A large metal square was peeking out from the ground; it was rusted with age and there was a handle.

Bucky nodded. "This is it."

He motioned with his right hand for Steve and Natasha to take a step back, moving to grab the hand of the hatch with his other arm. He gripped whatever was left of the handle as best as he could and, in a swift flourish of his arm, tore the hatch open. He threw the rusted metal aside, peering over the hole in the ground which was pitch black. Bucky swung his legs over and let them dangle over the opening in the earth, looking at the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents with a nod of his head before jumping down. Landing on his feet gracefully, Bucky straightened his posture, gun in hand. He heard Steve and Natasha jump in after him just as quietly.

It was dark,  _very_  dark, and Bucky had to reach for the thin flashlight in his pocket and click it on. He shined it over his feet and slowly up and around their surroundings; it was a hall that smelled faintly of rain and dirt. The trio slowly made their way through the hall, the two assassins letting their fingers graze over the triggers of their guns while the soldier held his shield close to his side.

Bucky swallowed thickly, seeing that every time he blinked, he saw ghosts. He saw and felt people running around, talking to each other or handing over secret files. When his eyes focused, the figments disappeared like mist. All that remained of the past were the metal walls and linoleum floor beneath his feet.

"How long do you think it's been abandoned?" Natasha directed her question to the brunet.

Bucky barely gave her a shrug. "A good thirty, maybe forty, years. Hydra never bothers to stay in one place."

He couldn't see her nod in response. The three stopped when they came to two halls branching off.

"We should split up, cover some ground," Steve said, looking down one hall that had water dripping from the ceiling.

"You two go down this one, I'll go down here, " Bucky nodded down the hall to their right.

Steve frowned. "Are you su-"

"I can hold my own, don't worry."

Steve looked uncertain, and Bucky knew why. He was worried that he'd find something that might trigger him, unleash the Winter Soldier from its cage. It was a justified worry; Bucky knew that Steve would begin to worry and wallow in guilt if the Winter Soldier suddenly lost his memory again because the blond hadn't accompanied him. However, if there was a trigger, Bucky's only worry would be that he'd remember his previous mission: to kill Steve and Natasha.

Even worse: sobering up to see that he had attempted or succeeded in their demise.

But still, Bucky gave Steve a reassuring smirk and said, "Think of it like those raids we did back in the war."

He got a little smirk in response before the blond sighed. "Alright, if you find anything, call."

Natasha brushed past Bucky and walked down the opposite hall, calling, "Come on, Barnes. We've got work to do!"

Bucky audibly groaned and he could hear Steve chuckle as he parted from him. He was hoping that she pair up with Steve, but it seemed that the fates weren't working in his favor.

Natasha lead the way with Bucky a few steps behind her, darting his eyes around the walls surrounding him. He could feel the damp, cold air making the material of his suit become heavy. The smell of rotting earth was very prominent and he knew that he'd smell like it when they returned to D.C. after the mission. He could foresee a helicopter ride of Natasha complaining how frizzy her hair would get because of the air; he wasn't looking forward to that.

They came to two rooms with rusted metal doors opposite each other. Bucky tried the knob of the door to the left, and it gave in easily. Moldy, stale air rushed out and Bucky had to suppress a cough. He cautiously entered with Natasha close behind. There were a few desks and filing cabinets, some overturned while others were pushed to the walls. The room was torn apart with papers strewn around as well as manila folders, as if someone had been searching for something but to no avail.

The dark haired man ran his eyes over the floor, walls and ceiling, trying to see if he could remember anything at all. No clue came to him.

"Looks like someone was trying to find something," Natasha spoke up, kicking a glass bottle out of the way.

"And whatever it was, they couldn't find it," he replied. Bucky's eyes trailed from the desk in the corner to the floor, searching for some indication of...  _something_.

"I'm guessing that when Hydra moved, they took everything with them?"

Bucky frowned. "Just the important stuff."

Bucky stopped circling the room and stared at the desk at the far wall, particularly the leg. He came closer, tilting his head to the side before kneeling down.

Natasha arched her brow at the super-soldier. "Barnes?"

"If I know Hydra," Bucky said as he moved the table to the side and ran his hand over the linoleum flooring. He couldn't help but smirk when felt one of the squares of linoleum rising slightly higher than other parts of the floor. "They always have something hiding right...under...our...noses."

Bucky dug his metal fingers into the floor and peeled away the flooring. Dirt and insects fluttered into the air, and from behind him, Natasha grimaced. From the spot Bucky had exposed, there lay a few manila folders with Russian written across them. He pulled him out, shaking the dust and dirt off of them before handing them to Natasha.

"I have to say, Barnes," the red haired woman shot him a grin. "I'm impressed."

"We should leave," he said and rose from the floor. "Tell Steve to meet us here. We got what we need."

Seconds after Natasha had called, they could hear Steve's footsteps come bounding down the hall. Natasha had let the blond glance at them before holding the folders securely to her side. Steve couldn't help but shoot the brunet a smile.

"Not bad for your first mission," Steve clapped Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky rolled his eyes as they exited the room. "You're forgetting that I've been doing this for decades."

Steve and Natasha had taken the lead while Bucky took the back. His eyes shifted to the door on the opposite that he and Natasha hadn't scoped out. He stopped walking and suddenly felt his body gravitate towards it, stretching out his arm to grip the handle of the door. Like the office, this door also gave in easily. Bucky sucked in a breath when he walked in, stopping in his tracks as his eyes quickly swept over the room. It wasn't as torn apart save for the wires that poked out of the ground as well as a rusted generator laying on its side. However, Bucky's eyes were drawn to a certain spot in the middle of the room where something was missing. At one time there was a large chair, but now only bolts stuck out.

He closed his eyes and his ears rang as his memories of his own pained cries jolted him. A wave of nausea passed over him and he swallowed thickly. He opened his eyes when he heard Steve come into the room.

"Bucky? Did you find something?" He asked.

The brunet only shook his head and turned around to leave the room.

"Just bad memories."

* * *

Bucky let out a sigh when the hot water hit his back. It was around eight in the morning when he had come home, and the super-soldier wanted nothing more than a hot shower and bowl of cereal. He didn't want to sleep due to the fact that he just couldn't.

He scrubbed the sweat and grime off of him before shutting the shower off and wrapping himself in a towel. He dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt that was already covered in cat hair. The brunet frowned, reminding himself to go out later and buy a lint roller.

Maya meowed when he entered the kitchen and wove herself around Bucky's legs. His phone rang on the counter just as he bent down to pet his cat. He straightened up, expecting it to be Hill or Steve to talk about last minute things. Bucky only smiled and swiped his thumb over the screen to answer.

"Good morning," he said, looking down at Maya as she meowed again.

"Good morning," Eva's chipper voice said from the other end. "Do you like brioches?"

He cocked his brow, but remembered that she wouldn't be able to see it. "What, dare I ask, is a brioche?"

Her tinkly laugh made the hairs rise on the back of his neck in a strange yet nice way. "It's a type of Italian croissant. They're selling them down at the Italian bakery near my place."

"And I'm assuming that you want me to come over?" He was sure that Eva could hear the smile on his voice.

He leaned against the counter and watched Maya jump up onto the granite and nudge his shoulder with her head. Holding the phone with one hand, he opened the cabinet above that held the bag of dry cat food.

"You assume correctly," Eva said. "When can you come over?"

"Anytime is good," Bucky said as he bent down to pick the food bowl off the floor and set it beside the cat. "I guess it'll be a good time to tell you some sort of, although not really, exciting news."

"Wow, some news, huh?"

"Yup."

"Well, don't leave me hanging!"

He chuckled into the receiver as he poured some food into Maya's bowl. Bucky scratched her back when she crunched on the dry bits.

"I'll tell you when I see you there."

She sighed. "You don't just say that and not tell me, y'know."

"It makes it funner that way."

"Did you just say 'funner'? That's not even a word!"

"Jeez, what are you? The grammar nazi?"

"Oh har, har."

The two of them laughed over the phone, and Bucky couldn't seem to get rid of the smirk off his face. Maya had abandoned the bowl of food and sat on the counter beside the brunet.

"So," he said. "I'll text you when I get to your place."

"Alright," Eva said. "See you soon."

They said their goodbyes, and Bucky locked his phone and set it on the counter. The smile still lingered and he ran a hand through his hair. This is what he needed, he thought. A day with Eva to take his mind off the mission and his new job.

He felt a gaze piercing his side and he turned his head to see Maya's knowing eyes staring him down.

"Don't look at me like that," Bucky said to his cat.

Maya meowed at him and then jumped down to the floor. He watched her venture off into the living room before pushing himself off the counter and retreating to his bedroom.

Bucky quickly dressed and slipped his coat and gloves on, pocketing his keys and making sure Maya had food and water. He left his apartment, and buried his hands into his pockets when the cold air blew against his face. It was either the first of second of December- Bucky couldn't remember -and the cold was biting and freezing his breath. The clouds above looked as if they would sprinkle snow, much to Bucky's dislike.

He took notice of all the Christmas decorations the district had put up; ribbons were wrapped around the streets lamps, and snowmen or Santa Clauses dotted the windows of nearly every store he had walked past. It was a bit overdone for his taste, and every time he blinked, all he could see was red, green, and gold. If he met up with Steve or Sam later, he knew they'd be wanting to decorate his apartment with tinsel or God knows what else. Bucky wasn't exactly the festive type; he didn't really like things that were flashy and he most certainly didn't want anything with glitter near him. If Steve so much as came near him with a Christmas sweater, he'd jump out the window. Literally.

But he wasn't going to refuse sugar cookies or chestnuts roasting on an open fire.

About twenty minutes later, Bucky was walking up to the front of Eva's apartment builder, pulling out his phone and sending her a quick text. He waited a minute or two before she came bounding down the two concrete steps. This time she remembered to wear her scarf and hat.

"About time you wore a hat," Bucky smirked.

Eva rolled her eyes and shoved Bucky's arm, although he barely swayed. "Shut up."

He shot her a smirk before she started to lead the way to the bakery. Bucky walked beside her and he could feel the unnerving gazes from the people on the street or hanging around the front of stores. He could never get used to the fact that she lived in this part of D.C., or how she hadn't been mugged yet.

"So, the good news?" Eva looked up at him expectantly. "You going to tell me or not?"

"You're rather impatient."

"Well, if it's good news, I'd like to hear it."

He chuckled to himself. "Maybe I should put it off-"

"Bucky!"

"Alright, alright. I got a job."

They stopped right in front of the busy bakery, and just as Bucky was about to step in, Eva pulled on his sleeve. She had a smile that looked like gold when he looked at her.

"A job?" She said. "Bucky, that's amazing!"

"It's not that special…"

She gave him a pointed look. "Of course it's special! Bucky, I'm so happy for you!"

"Don't I feel special now," he grinned. "You should buy me a celebratory muffin for the hell of it."

"Alright, I will," Eva said as the two of them stepped inside and out of the cold.

"No, Eva, I was kidding. Please, don't-"

She only laughed and Bucky had to suppress an eye roll, but a smile was planted on his face. Just as they had stepped in line, the first snowflake of winter fell from the clouds.


	12. Good Old Fashioned Consumerism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ/IMPORTANT!!!! Hello, everyone. I am so sorry that I haven't been updating. The last few months have been a whirlwind of emotions and problems. As of now, though, I'm doing much better, and I'm spending some time with my family before I go back to Uni next week. Here are 4 chapters to make up for it. I'd also like to point out that I also have this story on fanfiction.net, which I usually update first before Archive. Same username. I'm also uploading another fic on here that is also on my other account in fanfiction.net. It's a Hobbit fic, staring Kili and my oc, Estel. PLEASE CHECK IT OUT!! 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for sticking with me and being patient. Enjoy :)

Bucky rolled the orange bottle of pills in his hands, staring at it with a glare on his face. The voice of his doctor kept pecking at him like a sort of nuisance. Bucky twisted his mouth as he told himself that his doctor was actually a very nice woman, and she wasn't really a nuisance. However, she was insistent on him taking the pills.

It been four days since the mission in Cuba, and the brunet had been wracked with terrible nightmares of what had happened decades ago. More specifically, they were centered around the room with the missing chair. It had tainted his dreams, mocking him for being a product made of fear and oppression. The nightmares had left him tired and shaken; they made Bucky's anxiety and blood pressure levels rise. And he was afraid to admit that his doctor was right; he needed something to calm him down.

And so he sat there, glaring at the orange pill bottle. Maya sat on the kitchen table beside him; the super-soldier didn't care to enforce the "no-animals-on-the-table" rule. She had just as much freedom as Bucky did in his opinion. His cat seemed to sense his distress, and the look in her eyes almost urged him to take the medication. She meowed at him and Bucky had to roll his eyes.

"I get it," he told his cat. "I need to take them. Need to stop the stress."

He paused for a moment and Maya just blinked at him. He groaned and put his face in his hands.

"I'm talking to a cat," He muttered into his palms. "I  _am_  crazy."

He sighed and wiped his hands over his face before looking back down at the pills. He held it to his eyes, reading over the information. His doctor had prescribed him with Ativan, and had left strict instructions.

" _Ativan (lorazepam) is indicated for the management of anxiety disorders or for the short-term relief of the symptoms of anxiety or anxiety associated with depressive symptoms. Anxiety or tension associated with the stress of everyday life usually does not require treatment with an anxiolytic..."_

Bucky had silently read the label to himself. The pills were two milligrams each, the highest it went. He was told to take three per day instead of one. The serum coursing through his veins would burn up the medication before it could even take affect. With a sigh, he uncapped the bottle and shook them out; they were little white pentagons with a raised "A" and an impressed two on the other side. Bucky got himself a cup of water and tilted his head back, popping the pills and washing them down with water. He swallowed and wanted to gag, hating how they felt going down his throat. He washed his mouth with more water before setting the cup down in the sink.

He stood there with his hands braced against the sink with his eyes closed; the worst part was that he could feel the pills slide their way down to his stomach. A shiver ran through him, and he rubbed his right hand over his neck, trying to rid himself of the goosebumps. After a few moments, he sighed and walked out the kitchen, petting Maya on the way.

He threw his sweats off and pulled on a pair of jeans. There was a sweater that had been lying on the floor for a few days; he sniffed it once before putting it on, thinking that it could last a while longer before it needed to be washed. His scarf was strewn across the dresser, and he took a small peek of himself as he wrapped it around his neck.

Bucky pushed his feet into his boots while he pocketed his phone and keys. He locked his door and left the apartment building, setting off into the direction of the library. He tried not to grimace when the snow that hadn't been shoveled off to the side crunched under his feet. It was two in the afternoon when he glanced at his clock, and around him, the people seemed to be wearing ugly Christmas sweaters more and terrible variations of Santa Claus. He grimaced when he saw an elderly woman dragging a small dog with awful angel wings strapped to its back. It was only the second week into December, and everyone seemed to be infected by the holiday cheer; it was rather unsettling for the super-soldier.

Steve had told him some time back, right around when Bucky came to S.H.I.E.L.D., that Bucky loved Christmas; it was his favorite holiday next to Saint Patrick's Day-mostly because of the drinking, really. Bucky's mother would decorate the small apartment with tinsel and paper snowflakes that his sister would make. His father would bring in a small Christmas tree, mostly because they couldn't afford the larger ones, but they loved it all the same. After Steve mother had passed away, the blond would always spend Christmas with them, drinking whiskey and roasting chestnuts by the fireplace. It was hard for Bucky to imagine the cheer and merriness; he was so miserable and screwed up in his head that he'd forgotten what it must have been like to not have a single care in the world. When the brunet tried to close his eyes and imagine it, nothing came to him. That piece was missing.

Eventually, he made it to the library and went inside to meet the warmth. He loosened his scarf and pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It was about thirty minutes after two. Bucky went up the staircase and turned towards one of the checkout areas. There were a lot of people today, and some kids ran around while their father tried to round them up. The old woman from before was there behind the counter, and Bucky frowned; he didn't want to cross that woman ever again after the unsettling look she had given him.

Bucky sat in one of the armchairs and unlocked his phone, typing and sending a short text message. He pocketed his phone and got up again, wandering off to one of the bookshelves. There were several fantasy novels, and pulled one off the shelf and began flipping through it. He put it back and pulled out another, this time Harry Potter. He read the first book some time ago, and he didn't really see why people thought so highly of it; Eva practically sat him down and had a talk with him about why it was so seemingly amazing for an hour.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky saw the small brunette walk up to him. He turned his face and gave her a greeting smile, putting the book away.

"Thanks for waiting," Eva smiled, hoisting her purse up onto her shoulder.

"No problem," he said, and they started walked towards the staircase.

They left the library and walked down the road as the conversed lightly. She asked him how he was and vice versa. The two stopped at a bus stop where a few other people were sitting at.

Eva looked up at the man beside her and she frowned a bit. "Are you okay?"

Bucky raised his brow. "Yeah, why?"

"You just look really tired," she said.

He tried not to sigh; he  _was_  tired. The days were taking his toll on him, especially the mission S.H.I.E.L.D. sent him on. Steve felt that Bucky needed a week to rest up and think about things until he felt like the brunet could go on another mission.

"Work is just keeping me up," he lied. Eva had a looked of concern, and she searched his face with her eyes. Bucky let himself relax when she sighed and turned her attention to the bus coming up alongside the road.

The two of them followed the passengers into the bus, and Eva flashed her bus pass while Bucky inserted a of couple coins. Eva lead him to the middle of the bus and sat down in an empty spot. Bucky tucked his hands in his pockets while she crossed her legs; she dug out a pack of chewing gum from her purse and offered Bucky a piece, who gladly accepted. It was a bit strange for Bucky to ride public transportation, mostly because he felt out of place.

That, and he used a grenade launcher in attempt to kill Steve, Sam, and Natasha; which only caused Steve to crash into a bus.

They were both quiet as the people around them chatted away or bobbed their heads to their music. Sound died out around Bucky's mind, and he was swept away into an ocean of white noise. He hadn't realized that the bus had stopped after a while until Eva gently shook his shoulder. He jolted, clenching his left fist; he quickly relaxed when he saw her brown eyes.

Bucky and Eva got off the bus at the Pentagon City Metro, and began walking along the crosswalk in the direction of the mall.

"Bucky?" Eva said as they crossed the street to the entrance of the mall.

He hummed in her direction, reaching to push the revolving door and letting the short woman go before him.

"Are you  _sure_  you're fine?" She asked.

The super-soldier kept himself from sighing, forcing a smile out onto his face. It must've been terrifying to look at.

"I'm alright," he said, looking up and around the mall. "I swear."

Eva sighed lightly and brought the strap of her purse higher to her shoulder. Bucky took in the bustling environment, and the colorful gold, red, and green ornaments hanging from the very high ceiling. The last time he had been in a mall was months ago, when Steve and Natasha practically forced him to go and get a new wardrobe. It had been some of the worst few hours of his life as the blond and redhead shoved bundles of clothes into his arms.

However, that time ago was nothing compared to that very moment. Aside from the flashy Christmas decorations, were the hundreds among hundreds of people doing their Christmas shopping. What mostly irked Bucky was the Santa Claus about fifteen feet away ho-ho-ho-ing. It made Bucky's skin itch every time he heard, "And what would you like for Christmas?"

Eva stopped walking and watched briefly from the candy cane fence, a light smile playing on her lips. "This takes me back."

Bucky snorted. "You really did this sort of thing?" He asked as the watched a little girl ramble off to the fat man in red.

"Yeah," Eva grinned, turning to look up at him. "Didn't you?"

"Nope," he said as he crossed his arms. "Didn't need to."

They turned away and started walking again. Bucky followed Eva up the escalator. "How can you  _not_  go see Santa?" Eva asked incredulously.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head, smiling softly in thought. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the escalator move under his feet. There was something Steve had told him earlier in the month when the Christmas season began, and after a days he remembered it vividly.

"As a kid, I didn't need to go see Santa Claus," Bucky said, although he doubted random strangers would sit in the streets for children to come tell them what they wanted back then. "Santa came to see me."

Eva shot on eyebrow off and stepped onto the floor. Bucky smiled and explained, "My father used to dress up in this ratty Santa suit my mother made for him. He'd pop into the room and surprise my little sister and I. Money was tight, couldn't afford many presents, but him pretending to be Santa really made our Christmas."

The words coming out of our mouths felt strange, as if they weren't his own. His insides clenched uncomfortably, and no matter how hard he tried to think it, the words Bucky was saying couldn't feel like they were actually his.

"I think that's sweet," Eva gave him a gentle smile as they entered a Macy's store.

Bucky didn't say anything; only his ghost of a smile answered her. He followed her around the large department store, steering clear of running children and the many customers getting their shopping done. Eva would pause every now and then to look at the displays, and then she'd move on.

"What exactly are you looking for?" Bucky asked. He stepped to the side when a child ran past him, his red-faced father running after him.

"Something for my brother," Eva replied, turning towards the jewelry department. She looked over displays of rings and golden necklaces until her eyes stopped at the men's jewelry. "Maybe a watch."

Bucky pointed to one below him. It had a large black face and a red leather strap. "How about this one?"

Eva scrunched her nose in distaste. "David wouldn't go for something like that. I want to find something simple, but nice."

The super-soldier sighed under his breath, looking at the display beside Eva, trying to find something that matched her description. He just wanted to find a watch quickly, and get out of this jungle of a store. He was able to stay in the same position for hours on end for a mission, but he couldn't stay still in a department store.

He watched Eva in an attempt to block the growing annoyance of his surroundings. She'd lean forward against the glass case, tapping her fingers in a steady rhythm as she tried to get a good look at the selections. A few wisps of hair hung in front her eyes, yet she made no attempt to blow them away; her hair had grown a fraction of a centimeter since he had met her. Her brown eyes were so focused, concentrated. She chewed on her bottom lip, almost to the point where the skin broke. Her lips were chapped, and the skin was a bruised red where her teeth gnawed and tugged at the flesh. And a warmth suddenly spread through Bucky's chest, and he had to turn away.

It was a warmth he had yet to question, but he pushed it down and locked it up. He focused on a set of earrings that bulky and rather hideous, but the warmth was still there, making his stomach twist. It wasn't terrible, but it was very pleasant either.

Eva sighed beside him, and slumped her shoulders. "I can't find anything."

Bucky snorted. "There are fifty watches in front of you."

"Correction; there are only twenty-seven."

"Twenty-seven, fifty, four. Doesn't matter," he said, following her as she lead him away from the jewelry department. She had a slight frown, mopey and almost childlike. Bucky suppressed a sigh, taking her gently by the elbow and leading her towards the exit. "Why don't we look somewhere else?"

"Okay…"

Unlike before, Bucky lead Eva this time. Despite the fact he had only spent forty minutes in the mall, and once months before, he was able to navigate quite easily. It was going to be a long day, however, should it take Eva the entirety of their stay looking for one measly wristwatch. He didn't mind helping the woman shop, but looking for  _one_  thing for hours on end would prick his patience. She had a list of other things to find, too. Bucky groaned internally; they'd be there till closing. He wasn't sure if Maya had enough food to last the whole day.

He'd push Eva the escalator if they stayed long.

No. No, he wouldn't. Bucky wasn't an ass, but it was hard to maintain his patience.

"Why don't you shop for the other things first?" He craned his head at her.

"What?"

"Get the easier things out of the way," he said. "Then get the watch."

She looked up as she walked in thought, then nodded. She rummaged through her purse, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. Bucky watched her smooth out with her fingers, not bothering to peer over and look at the messy scribbles.

"Whose first?"

"My niece and nephew," she replied. She paused to look at the directory by one of the few elevators. Her eyes flickered up and down the map and list. "Gymboree."

"Gymboree?"

"It's a store for little kids," she explained as the two entered an elevator. Bucky grimaced as he and Eva were pushed to the back; his eyes darted around from person to person in the small space. He was uncomfortable. He tried to settle his attention on Eva.

Small spaces like this made him uneasy; it was worse when they started moving down. He could feel his insides turn uneasily with every movement, and he wondered how everyone could be so calm. The elevators in S.H.I.E.L.D. were something he didn't really mind, but this was different for some other reason. Eva looked as she didn't have a care in the world, and yet there he was trying not to break through the glass walls. When the doors opened, he all but bolted out. It was like a lion being released from a cage.

He felt Eva pat his shoulder and walk ahead of him. "We'll take the escalator next time."

He huffed a breath and walked after her. One thing he should have expected was the sea of people within Gymboree; it was almost as bad as Macy's. Difference was that there were even more children. The store reminded him of a zoo.

Bucky watched Eva beeline through the crowd of people towards the section for little girls, following her grudgingly. Some women eyed him cautiously, pulling their children closer to him; he couldn't help but roll his eyes and snort. He wasn't  _that_ terrifying. At least he didn't think so.

He found Eva admiring clothing for infant girls, noticing the light smile on her face. He perked brow, glancing over the different shades of pinks and pastels. "This for your niece?"

Eva shook her head. "No, Cara's only four. I just like looking at baby clothes."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "They make me think of the future. Plus, they're cute." She picked up a small, soft green dress and held it up to his face. "Look at how small this is!"

He batted it away with a slight grin. "Do you foresee kids in your future?"

She folded the dress and set it down with the others. She still had the smile on her face. "I'd like kids. Not now, of course, but maybe in the future… when I find someone, settle down, finish school." She didn't look at him as she spoke, and seemed to be deep in thought before quietly adding, "I'd like a little girl."

Bucky only nodded; there really wasn't anything for him to say. She seemed hopeful, Bucky noticed. The hope in her eyes reminded him of Steve, and he wondered how it was possible for the two of them to hold onto the glimmer of hope. Bucky wasn't really a pessimist, he-although, he did have his moments- was a realist. He knew if someone had a chance, and he knew when something was impossible. Eva's optimism was somewhat unnerving, and he worried for moment that her hoping would lead to her getting hurt one day.

He stood patiently as she sifted through the articles of clothing for toddlers. Thankfully, it didn't take her long to find some things. She passed the clothes off into Bucky's arms so that she could look at the boys' clothing. With a sigh, he followed. They repeated the process of Bucky standing idly while Eva looked through the racks and tables of folded sweaters, picking out what she deemed fitting for her nephew.

Bucky felt uncomfortable when he and Eva stood in line to check-out, feeling the gazes of parents or children on him. Eva smirked and chuckled softly at the distressed expression on his face.

"They're not going to bite you, Bucky," she said, nudging his right arm.

He rolled his eyes. "I know that," he said, but nonetheless looked around uneasily. "But their goddamn eyes keep drilling holes into my back."

Eva swatted his chest. "Don't swear. There are  _kids_  here."

He narrowed his eyes at her, not in a menacing way; but in a more playful, mischievous manner. "Shit, fuck, damn," he said.

She tried to be stern by glaring at him, but then a smile broke out onto her face and she began to giggle. Bucky chuckled along with her, ignoring the scowls of mothers behind him. He carried the two bags for her when they were done, and proceeded to shop for all the other things on her list. Despite her protesting, Bucky carried all the bags for her; he didn't really mind it, even though it crossed his mind that he was acting like a pack mule. At one point, Eva made him sit in a sitting area beside an escalator while she ran to a store. The only explanation she gave Bucky was that she didn't want to see what she was getting him; she ran off before Bucky could groan and tell her not to buy anything for him.

When she came back, Eva was stuffing a small, black shopping bag into her purse. "I don't want you to peek," she said.

He rolled his eyes for seemed to be the millionth time that day. "I wasn't going to."

"Sure, sure," she patted his head; it was comical, seeing that he was a head taller than her.

"Got everything?" Bucky asked as they walked through the mall. They must have spent hours there. At least it wasn't as terrible when he went with Steve and Natasha; it admitted that it was rather pleasant, even if there were three times as many people than when he last went.

Eva shook her head. "Need to find a watch."

He refrained from groaning. He then began to wonder if she could even afford another gift; he was carrying at least six or seven bags of presents in his hands. "Do you even have enough for another present?"

"I'm sure I do," she responded, looking at him with her big brown eyes. "I went a little over my budget, though, but it's okay. I'm not going to lie, however; I was kind of impulsive."

"You're not that impulsive," Bucky said.

"I am," she said. "I do things on a whim. I don't think about consequences, I just do it." Eva then pointed to her head. "Like this haircut."

Bucky's eyebrows shot up. "What the hell do you mean?"

"I got really pissed one day, and I just… I just chopped off my hair," Eva elaborated. She said it like it was the simplest thing in the whole world.

He frowned. "Can I ask why?"

Eva looked away from him, staring up at the big ornaments hanging from the ceiling of the mall. "I caught my ex cheating on me."

She stopped walking, and so did he. He pulled her to the side when people began to go around them, giving the two dirty looks. Bucky wasn't sure what to say. 'I'm sorry' seemed too stupid to say; it wasn't as if he was the reason why she got cheated on.

"So… you cut your hair off?" He hesitantly asked.

Eva nodded. "I was pissed, and I guess I was being dumb and childish at the time. When I went to the nearest salon, I told the hairdresser to just cut it all off. She was a bit hesitant because I used to have really long hair, but I had it cut anyway."

She stared at him for a moment, and suddenly started laughing. Bucky looked at her as if she had grown horns. She waved him off and shook her head.

"Sorry, it's just the look on your face," she smirked. "You look so shocked."

Strange. He was never one to be shocked. He lifted the corner of his lip, and huffed a breath through his nose. He didn't understand her, only accepted her reasons and nodded.

"Well, it's a good look on you," Bucky said.

Eva smiled. "Come on," she said. "We're almost done shopping."

They set off again, Eva once again taking the lead. After a moment or two, they passed a store, but something caught Bucky's attention. He paused, letting Eva walk ahead a bit; he stared into the store window of a jewelry store, looking at the display. It was a Pandora store. He had heard of it through the ads on benches and the sides of buses, but never actually thought anything of it. There was a display of charms in the charmingly lit store. They were in all different sizes and colors, all different themes for all these different occasion.

One charm stood out to Bucky: a snowflake. It was silver with little gems adorning it, and he had to say that it was pleasing to the eye. He liked it more than the other ones. Eva called his name, and he turned back to see her waiting for him. He adjusted his grip on the shopping bags before leaving the snowflake charm behind, and followed his friend.


	13. Cold Veins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! 2 of 4 chapters that you all deserve in the last year! :)

They expected the weather to have settled down, but the high winds and snow jostled the hanger in the air as the group of five flew to Quebec. The sun had set very early, not even close to six in the evening as they flew north. Bucky gritted his teeth when his shoulder bumped into Natasha's; the redhead grimaced, moving away from him by an inch. Steve crossed his arms and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the turbulence, while Sam was humming a Stevie Wonder tune.

The weather didn't necessarily bother him, is was just the lack of space that made his skin itch. The aircraft they used on their last mission was undergoing repairs; the hanger they had was the best that S.H.I.E.L.D. had, and there weren't any funds to get another helicopter or hanger. It was the best that they got.

If Steve was annoyed by the lack of space, he didn't say anything- he was too polite for that. Sam was too lost in his humming to notice. As for Natasha, she looked as if she was going to spit out some snide remark; she was wise enough, however, to not comment.

Bucky reminded himself that he had traveled in worse. No use crying over hangers. The only thing that he'd look forward to after the mission was setting his feet on the ground and chowing down dinner at Eva's later in the night.

The silence was broken by Sam humming louder, this time a different tune that Bucky did not recognize. It was piercing and irritating, causing the vein in Bucky's neck to strain.

"I'm going to shove my foot down your throat if you keep that up," Natasha snapped. A dark, agitated look flared in her eyes. "You know I hate  _Les Misérables_."

For once, Bucky agreed with her-although he hadn't the slightest idea about what she had said- and he wouldn't stop her from shutting Sam up.

"Don't you hate on it," Sam waved a finger at the redhead. "That soundtrack is my  _life_."

"Isn't that just a book and movie?" Steve asked with a mask of confusion.

"It became a musical in the eighties," Sam explained. "There was an adaption of it as a musical film a while ago."

"Movie night," Steve then declared with a grin, and he and the Falcon sealed their agreement with a firm handshake.

Bucky couldn't resist an eye roll, and was suddenly aware of the closed space again.

The hanger was jostled again due to the high winds, and Bucky took in deep breaths to keep himself from losing his already dwindling sanity. These days he had been on edge, and his built of stress and anxiety was like a shaken soda, threatening to pop at any second. It didn't help that they had a mission that night; if anything, it was the worst time to have a mission. The only thing he could look forward to was coming home for a hot shower and lying in his bed. Sleeping, however, didn't seem to be a part of that plan. He chose sleep deprivation and agitation over the ever-growing darkness in his head.

He was pulled from his thoughts when the pilot up front, Agent Barrack, reported that they were nearing the coordinates of the location. The crew secured their weapons, and pulled on their S.H.I.E.L.D. issued winter gloves and coats-except for Steve, who politely declined a winter coat. Bucky bundled himself up in a way that would allow him to move easily, but also stay very warm. He refused to feel any ounce of Quebec's harsh winters.

The hanger landed on a disclosed piece of land, and when the four hopped out of its door, a shiny black SUV was waiting for them. Bucky bit back a remark about having to yet again be in a moving piece of transportation, already very tired of winter travel. His mood was even worse when he felt the metal of his arm start to cool down very quickly. It was strange to think that his mind would be sustained from any complaint during his time with Hydra, but now he all he felt was irritation with the options of voicing it or keeping his mouth shut.

Maria Hill was waiting for them in the driver's seat; she had arrived the day before to set up satellite equipment with one other agent to gather intel from what appeared to be a large, abandoned post office from the seventies. Of course, it was a classic hideout: an abandoned building would more than likely be a base of operations. From the signals Agent Hill gathered, the activity had to be Hydra. Yet, more importantly, was a Hydra agent that S.H.I.E.L.D. was trying to track down for some time: Emille Verdona. One of the chief directors of the helicarriers and suspect of being Hydra's new leader. Intelligence tracked him, shooting for the best guess that he was somewhere in Quebec.

Bucky was squashed with Sam and Steve in the back while Natasha called shotgun. It certainly did not help the two of the three men had heavier builds. Sam was mumbling profanities and companies seeing that he was sandwiched between the two super soldiers. He was one to complain; Bucky could hardly utter a word from how stuffy it was. Hill had the car's heating system operating at its highest setting, filling the car with uncomfortable heat mingling with everyone's breath. He'd ask for someone to crack a window open, but he knew he'd get an immediate "no" from the brunette at the wheel.

"You're positive that this is the building?" Bucky managed to call out from the back.

Hill glanced at him sharply from the rearview mirror before turning her gaze back to the snowy road. "I'm never wrong, Barnes. From what we gathered this has to be one of Hydra's nests; seems to be some dark shit circulating from the heat readings."

He gave her a blank stare, shifting towards the storm outside. He had to be sure. The wheels were turning in his head as he remembered the brief history lesson Natasha had sat their group down. It was mostly done for Bucky's own benefit to perhaps trigger something in his mind, to jog a memory of sorts. Bucky vaguely knew what the October Crisis of nineteen-seventy was from quick glances through encyclopedias. A series of events centering the kidnapping of two government officials by the FLQ, whom they learned were linked to Hydra from the files found in Cuba. The post office was an equal distance from both kidnapping sights of James Cross and Pierre Laporte; from listening to Hill listing off the things they've gathered about one of Hydra's many nests, it was one of the few favorite places that the FLQ met in secret to share and plan ninety bombings.

And of course, Hydra snaked themselves in to feed the plots and destruction.

The kidnappings, however, weren't executed as Hydra and the FLQ thought they would. Both Cross and Laporte's kidnappings caused much chaos-which they had wanted-but they didn't foresee Laporte to be executed. Despite that, his assassination did feed into the brewing chaos at the time. But there was one figure that oversaw the operations in Quebec: Emille Verdona, one of Hydra's top agents.

Natasha was persistent with her questions about the crisis, and Bucky had been left with a headache caused by annoyance. All the questions were if he had been involved, and truthfully, he wasn't sure. Steve tried to reassure-although, he wasn't very confident- him that he wasn't there to commit anything. Something, a gut feeling, told Bucky that he must have.

It must've been him. Hydra never liked to get their hands dirty.

Half an hour later of icy roads and heavy snowfall, the car pulled into a series of alleyways in Alma, Quebec, somewhere in the older district. Hill killed the ignition, switching her communicator on and pulled her laptop out from the passenger's side. She powered it up, face molding into a mask of concentration as she opened up the surveillance and communication with the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent back at the hotel.

"About one thousand feet from here," Hill said as she zoomed in on a map of the alleyways. "Is Hydra's nest. It's most likely underground, so you can't use the potholes for fear that they might be sealed shut. The best way in, although slightly dangerous, is through the post office's back door or rooftop. Be on your guard, and engage and take out any Hydra agent." She typed away, eyes glued to the screen as the blue light illuminated her face, doing who knew what. "Find and arrest Emille Verdona, and please, Barnes, don't kill him."

Bucky scowled. He wasn't an idiot, but he might just knick him a little so that the bastard could comply.

"You have an hour," Hill said, craning her neck to glance at the team. "Go."

The team shared nods before checking their weapons and switching their communicators on. The night was bitter and cold when they stepped out of the SUV, and snow melted on their hands and faces as they stole away in the alleyways with Steve taking the lead. Bucky was right behind him with Natasha, and Sam brought up the rear.

Snow and ice crunched under their feet, and it was absolutely pitch black in the alleyways. They navigated well, though, counting how many feet they have scurried along path to the destination. Navigating in the dark was elementary for Bucky, nothing to worry one's self over. It was what could be waiting in the dark that they had to worry about. And for some unusual reason, this made Bucky uneasy. Something unsettling in the air had infiltrated his body and made his stomach flutter nervously, all caused by a monster in the dark. Whether it be the monster in his mind or something below the asphalt of the system of alleyways.

The cold made Bucky's face sting like hell, and he felt his nose run and his ears hurt beneath his hat. God, he hated winter, and he hated winter in Canada most of all. For a few moments, he wondered what Steve had gotten him for Christmas after seeing the guy grin like a fool with shopping bags in his hands. He hoped it was a heated blanket; his apartment's heating system was broken.

The group had stopped moving when Steve had come to an abrupt stop, Agent Hill telling them that they had arrived at the destination. Bucky's gun felt heavy in his hands as did the rest of the weapons on his person. He craned his head around, straining his eyes a bit through the flurry of snow and the night's darkness for anything out of the ordinary; he could feel the plates in his arm shifting, not to mention that it was freezing whatever was left of his shoulder.

Steve turned about, snow shuffling around his feet. He looked at the back door which was heavily bolted, then up towards the rooftop. Natasha crossed the space and poked at the locks and chains across the doors.

"Not conspicuous at all," she scoffed, taking a step back.

"You're right," Steve said, tugging at the locks before looking back up at the roof. "Best bet might be to go through the top. It's quieter and-"

Before the blond could finish, Bucky had pushed past the two and ripped the locks off. He threw them to the ground, cocking his gun before looking back at the team. Sam and Natasha both smirked while Steve shot him a reprimanding look.

"Or you could do that," Steve sighed, taking up his shield and leading the three inside.

It was dark inside the post office, and smelled strongly of dust and mold. Bucky and the others pulled out their flashlights. They shined their lights, weapons out and ready. A terrible sharpness in the air snaked its way down Bucky's throat, and he tried his best not to cough. Before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. he was quiet, held back everything during his mission, but hell, he was certainly rusty. He needed to train and work out when they got back to headquarters.

"You'd think they would invest in some heating," Natasha muttered.

"Well, it's an abandoned building," Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Not according to intel," Steve butt in.

The dark haired man tried very hard to resist rolling his eyes. As they walked around, Sam stopped moving, looking down at the floor. Bucky noticed his movements and watched as he crouched down to get a better look at the linoleum. Sam ran a gloved hand over the floor with a frown.

"Think this might be a way in?" Sam asked.

Steve knelt beside him with his eyebrows pinched together. "Has to be."

After gazing at the linoleum square for a moment, Steve hesitantly pressed his palm against it, pushing it down into the floor. A click emitted from it, and it instantly popped back up. The four exchanged looks, and Natasha and Bucky gripped their guns with both hands. Steve picked the linoleum square off the ground, revealing a keypad below. Natasha knelt down beside him, stowing her gun away at her thigh holster to pull out a small little device. She switched it on and a red light began to shine over the keypad.

"Got the code," she reported after the device showed a series of numbers, and began to punch it in the keypad.

A luminous glow emitted from the sides of the square and the flooring in front of them suddenly started to give away. Mechanically, the pieces of the flooring began to stack themselves neatly. A rectangular hole in the ground, five squares by six squares, revealed a staircase leading down beneath the post office.

"Weird," Sam whistled.

Natasha shot him a look. "After everything that's happened in the last decade, you think a secret staircase is weird?"

"Focus, you two," Hill scolded them through the communicator.

Bucky grimaced, finding her voice rather piercing.

Steve and Bucky peered down the steps that lead to an unsettling darkness. Knots formed in the dark haired man's stomach as he swallowed thickly. This seemed too easy for him.

"Okay?" Steve nudged his arm.

Bucky looked up with his face set in a grim look, nodding. "Let's go."

The four filed down the steps in a single line, Bucky taking the lead this time. He'd be the first to see something that trigger a memory-useful or dangerous.

Their footsteps created a quiet echo that bounced off the walls, and the further they went down, the lighter it became. On the last step, the team found themselves entering a hallway with bright LED lights overhead and white walls with the same linoleum flooring. It stretched several feet with more hallways attached. Metal doors were spaced eight feet apart on either side, all numbered.

Bucky took a few cautious steps, putting his flashlight away and keeping the safety off his gun. Steve followed him close behind, blinking to adjust his eyes. After a moment he turned towards the three.

"We split up," Steve had jumped right into his leader mode. "Natasha and Sam, you guys go down this end of the hallway. Anything you find useful, take it, but remember our priority is Verdona. Bucky and I will head down this way..."

Steve found Bucky to have already gone walking down one end of the hall. He sighed and told the group to meet back at the stairs as fast they could.

Bucky froze mid step, straining his ears, hearing voices and footsteps. He shared a look with Steve before the blond nodded. Two men turned the corner and before they could take a good look at the two intruders, Steve had thrown his shield, hitting one agent before it ricocheted and hit the other agent. The two men went down cold as Steve caught his shield, and Bucky rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, muttering about showing off.

Bucky kicked their weapons away and stepped over them as he followed Steve at his heels. They turned the corner of the hall instead of going straight, greeted by more metal doors. Most of them had small windows, and the two men had to duck to avoid being seen. Hydra agents looked over computers in some of the rooms, others were casually speaking to one another in what looked like break rooms. Most of the doors without the small doors were locked, and there was no telling what was on the other side; the others were just empty and devoid of any Hydra agent.

The hairs on Bucky's neck were standing, and he began to sweat from beneath his winter hat. A metallic taste stained his tongue and the roof of his mouth, and no matter how many times he swallowed, it still lingered. He kept a sharper ear, scanning his surroundings with cautious eyes. There was something definitely something strange about the facility, something that must be familiar. He knew it was, he could tell.

"Wait," Steve whispered, holding up his hand as he and Bucky pressed themselves against the wall. Four Hydra agents walked by, each holding an automatic rifle. Bucky raised his own gun, only to be stopped by a look from Steve. The agents walked on by without any notice of the two men. "Let's not bring attention to ourselves."

Steve moved to turn the corner while Bucky scowled, only to halt when another Hydra agent came into view. The agent froze, mouth agape as he took in the blond man before him before shifting his gaze to Bucky, and his eyes became saucers. Before Bucky could take up his gun, the agent yelled at the four men who were about to enter a room. Bucky cursed, bringing up so gun towards the agent while Steve threw his shield at the other four now-alert- agents. Shots were fired, and Bucky ducked, shooting the man in the thigh while bringing his left arm around to slam the agent's head into the wall before he could scream. The other four agents were knocked out cold, bullet holes in the walls around them. Steve looked up to Bucky and back to the agent whose leg was bleeding freely. He shook his head and sighed.

"Did you have to shoot him?"

There was another eye roll. "Yes," Bucky said, moving around the passed out men. "That way he'll have a harder time coming after us. Now, let's hurry the hell up. Bastards probably sent out an alert already."

"Nat," Steve spoke into his communicator. "Any sign of Verdona?"

"Negative," her voice echoed in their ears. "Found a couple files, though."

The two super soldiers picked up their speed, looking into every room and hiding against the walls or engaging the agents. Bucky gritted his teeth, knowing that they didn't have much time left. Any second now the facility would be under lockdown, and agents would come flooding in. Nat began speaking again, telling them that she and Sam had found Verdona and needed backup right as they took out a few more guards and agents.

"Shots are about to get fired, guys," Sam said urgently.

Bucky looked away from Steve as put in a new magazine. The feeling came back again, setting him on edge as another view came into the corner of his eye. While Steve spoke to Natasha and Sam, he took a few steps towards the door and pushed it open. He heard his name being called, and he ignored it for a moment as he felt himself being pulled in. There wasn't much inside, only a table and a chair in the far corner. He swallowed thickly as his feet lead him towards it. It was metal, stained with rust and...something else. It was all brown at the back and on the sides, and the lurch in Bucky's stomach made him realize that it was-

" _Do it," the gray haired man said, frustration and annoyance coating his face._

_He nodded, pulling a knife out from his thigh pocket with a flick of wrist as he gazed at the sniveling man tied to the chair. His voice was barely audible as he cried, blubbering like a child. He begged, he cursed God, he had fear in those bloodshot eyes. The stench of fear was heavy in the air, and yet he felt nothing as he held the knife._

_The feeling of nothing disappeared as a scream pierced the air, and blood stained his hands…_

"Bucky? Bucky!" Steve shook his arm.

The dark haired man jumped, moving a few steps back. His head began to throb and it felt like a needle was stabbed into his eye. His shoulder began to hurt, and he swore loudly, rubbing a hand along his face. He felt sick. Sanity seemed to escape his mind.

"We got to get out of here," he croaked, moving towards the door. He had to get out. Shit, he had to  _leave._

He started bounding down the hall with his heart in his throat and more images seemed to flood his head. He stopped, bending down and gripping his head as he let out a pained groan. Hands grabbed his shoulders, and Bucky swung about to point his gun at Steve. His friend frowned, and there was worry in his eyes. The Winter Soldier breathed heavily, clawing at Bucky's head as it struggled to escape the cage. Steve held his hands up, and Bucky's eyes narrowed with the rapid rising and falling of his chest.

"Bucky," Steve said slowly and calmly. "We need to get Sam and Natasha."

A ragged breath escaped Bucky's lips, but his gun was still up. Suddenly, Bucky moved it sharply to Steve's right and pulled the trigger. There was a strangled noise and thud, and Steve turned around to see another Hydra agent.

"Let's go," Bucky sucked a breath in, going down the opposite direction.

Steve was at his side as they ran to get to the others. Bucky's legs felt weak, and the pain still pecked at his head. They came close to the sound of gunfire, and as they turned the corner, they found Natasha and Sam. Bucky began shooting, profanities slipping out of his mouth as his gun clicked to a stop. He threw the gun to ground just as a heavy set Hydra agent came running towards him with his fists raised. Bucky ducked, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it over and under till he heard a crack. The agent screamed as he held his broken arm, and Bucky finished with a kick to the back of the head to knock him out.

Natasha threw out punches, easily and gracefully swinging onto the shoulders of another agent and bringing them down to the floor as she used her weight. Sam held a bearded, gray haired man around the neck, his gun at his temple. Steve shielded himself from a bullet, then threw it at the offender. Bucky moved out of the way in time before he could get stabbed as a knife sliced through the air. He flicked his own knife out, twirling it with a skilled hand before through it at the agent's hand, watching as it pinned him to the wall with a scream.

Agent Hill began to yell into their communicators, telling them to get out as the team finished off the rest. "More are coming. I'm bringing the car around."

The team began to move, and Bucky forced himself to push the massive headache down as the ran down the halls with their target in tow. Bucky and Steve brought up the rear in case they were stopped again by the agents and guards. They needed no more delays. By the time they reached the stairs, an alarm began to blare, and Bucky grimaced as it rang in his ears. It upsetted his head even more.

The four bounded up the stairs, and they heard voices down below. A mechanical noise began to shift from above, and the team was trapped on the staircase as the pieces of the floor began to lock into place.

"You have to be kidding me," Natasha said.

"Move," Bucky growled, and the plates in his arm began to whir and shift as he pulled it back and punched his fist into the floor paneling.

A square panel was knocked out of place and soared towards the opposite side of the room. Bucky bellowed for them to move, and the group pushed out of the opening just a several angry voices met them from behind. A screech of tires greeted them as they ran out the back door, and Agent Hill opened up the side doors.

" _Get in!_ "

The agent stepped on the gas just as the Hydra agents burst out into the snowy alleyway, firing shots. Bucky was the last to get into the vehicle as it began moving, and shut the side door, nearly shattering the window. Bullets ricocheted as they got away, the car turning a sharp corner onto the main road.

A sigh left Bucky's lips as he collapsed against the seat as Natasha and Steve bound and gagged the Hydra agent they had captured. Once his body relaxed, he opened his mouth to say something only to gape openly as a fire filled his chest. His eyes took in Emille Verdona's face as an animalistic growl took over. Sam and Steve looked over worriedly, Natasha touching her gun at her side.

" _You!_ " Bucky bellowed, and lunged for the man.


	14. Another Skin to Shed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna be angsty. (I think that's a word? Yeah, it's a word)

There was a fire flaming in his eyes, and every blink revealed a darker shade of red fueled by disbelief and anger. He could hear himself and the others in the SUV yelling, the panic and furious air creating a cyclone of chaos. Bucky's hands were wrapped around Verdona's neck, shaking him like a rag doll as he yelled profanities at the Hydra agent. His hands tightened, and the agent's eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe.

His memories were all wiped away along with names, faces, the people he had killed; but he remembered this man's face. Oh, God, it pained his head so much, but he remembered that face and what it did to him.

Bucky's mind had darkened, and the tendrils of the cage had nearly closed around him. The bars began to bend and twist as the Winter Soldier nearly clawed his way out, nearly setting himself free until there was a swift kick in the face that sent Bucky's head spinning. He fell onto his back with a heavy groan, and Verdona swallowed painful gulps of air.

Natasha set her foot down with a grim face, gun held firmly in her hands, look as she watched the assassin hold his head. Bucky pried his eyes open with a pained groan, and just as he was about to pick himself off the car floor, Steve had swooped in to restrain him from behind. Verdona breathed heavily, pressing himself against the car's door to get away from the enraged soldier. Bucky fidgeted against Steve's hold, the back of his mind screaming to tear this whole vehicle apart.

"What the  _hell_  did I tell you, Barnes?" Hill growled at the wheel. "I told you not to kill him!"

"He deserves to die," Bucky seethed. He struggled against Steve's iron grip, and Natasha trained her gun at his chest. " _Let me go, Steve!_ "

"Easy, Buck," Steve spoke with a gentle, but very firm tone. "Breathe."

The frightened Hydra agent quivered and breathed erratically. His hands were still bound, and a whimper was muffled by the gag. His dark eyes pleaded, filled with mercy, for the others in the car to protect him from the Winter Soldier. This sparked a murderous darkness in Bucky's veins, and he screeched, lunging one more time for the man.

A shot was fired. And everything went dark.

* * *

There was an awful, metallic taste in his mouth. Not to mention the the excruciating headache going on in his head. He'd only been knocked out a few times in his life; he was skilled enough to dodge bars of metal or fists from colliding with his head.

But Bucky certainly hadn't expected Natasha to shoot him with a tranquilizer or whatever the hell she had used.

With a stifled groan, he sat up, muscles protesting. He was in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cells, and he swore. The last time he was in one of the unnaturally bright, white rooms was when he first came to the security agency. The memory left a chill on his spine; the room reminded him of his days in Hydra. It wasn't the white of the room, but it was its lack of space that made him feel ill.

"Nice to see you awake."

He pictured Steve leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed and a look of disappointment on his face, but the blond wasn't there to chastise him. A rather bored Agent Hill sat in a chair with her legs crossed, a hint of disdain in her eyes.

"I should have you restricted from ever going on a mission ever again," she said with a bite.

He'd roll his eyes if his head wasn't on fire. The bars in his mind were warped and bent, and the voice whispered horrible things. He swung his legs over to meet the ground, and he sat there with his elbows on his knees. He was still in his uniform. He rubbed his face, trying to remove the heaviness out of his eyes.

"How long was I out?" He ignored what she said. There was no clock in the cell, only a metal door with a small square window. Days could have passed and he wouldn't have known being stuck in there.

"Three hours," Hill answered. "Romanoff used a tranquilizer on you. Night-Night gun, or whatever the developer calls it."

Bucky's brow twitched. Whoever decided to call the weapon such a ridiculous name sure knew his shit. Whatever was in that tranquilizer sure made his head feel like it was going to explode.

"And a punch to the head wouldn't have sufficed?" He asked bitterly.

The agent gave him a humorless snort, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again. "We have special protocols for your… case."

It took only a second for his eyes to darken. He should have known, he thought maliciously, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew. S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't just let a potential threat in with open arms, and expect him to polite and wipe his shoes every time he would set foot within the facility.

"Fury that afraid of me?" He spat.

"Well, given that temper of yours," Hill said. "I'd say that we were correct in our predictions for losing control."

He sighed. She had a point.

"Agents Romanoff and Wilson have gone to debrief," she continued, waiting for the super soldier to say something. When he didn't, she narrowed her eyes and added, " _Everything_  that happened in this mission will be documented."

"Fine." He was blunt, devoid of emotion. Bucky did not feel any ounce of care in him; there was nothing he could do. What  _could_  he do?

"You went against orders," she said. Bucky, again, didn't open his mouth to comment, and his silence only irritated the commander. "You were unprofessional, you could have  _killed_  our susp-"

"Well, he's still alive, isn't he?" Bucky muttered. "The bastard's lucky."

"Sergeant Barnes, he is a valuable asset," she glared, and she stood up to leave. "I should demand Fury to keep you out of these affairs from now on."

He snorted. "Your loss. I'm a walking encyclopedia."

He was digging himself a hole. Bucky's memories were still trying to break through the membrane of his consciousness; they all knew that. It was strange for him to retort like that, and he tried very hard to understand why he said that. Perhaps it was losing the opportunity to eradicate his tormentors, but he couldn't find the answer. That and Hill didn't give him a chance to as she opened her annoying up again.

Her words were as quick as her strides towards him. Her hands were clenched in fists, and her eyes were narrowed. "Joke or not, if you're holding information, I would advise you to turn it over to Director Fury immediately."

"You can stay in here all you want, Sargeant. Hell, I could care less if you rot in here. Whatever you're holding back, I demand that you release that information into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody."

Bucky gave her a blank look, one that he knew infuriated the woman. He didn't know what was wrong with him; all he could do was just say something insignificant, and the agent would burst like a bubble. He wanted to watch her stomp out and leave him alone.

Looking around the small detainment room made his insides twist, though. Bucky swallowed thickly, his mind going grim. He didn't want to be left in this…  _box_. He wasn't about to Agent Hill that; he didn't want to see that smug look on that stiff face of hers. No, he wouldn't give her that.

"Take me to Steve," he said. "And I'll tell you everything that you want to know."

The agent's jaw twitched. "Captain Rogers is currently with our prisoner, and under no circumstances will I-"

"Either you take me to Rogers or you'll lose your most valuable asset for this team."

Maria opened her mouth to snap back a remark. It closed after a moment, and she was red-faced from frustration. She pivoted on her heel and marched towards that door, swinging it open so hard that it slammed against the inner wall of the holding cell and frightening a guard positioned outside.

They exchanged a few words, and Bucky wondered how deep the hole he dug up for himself was. Hill looked back over her shoulder with a cold glare, and his brow arched up.

"Come with me."

He rose with a nod, following her out of the cell and into the brightly lit hall. The guard who was positioned by the door glared at the super-soldier, and Bucky sneered at him. The guard bristled, and set his eyes to the back of Bucky's head.

Hill lead them with a stiffness in her back and shoulders, as if she had an awkward itch. Bucky's teeth were grinding against each other as the three of them went up to an elevator. A button was pressed to up to the fourth level, and they quickly exited once the doors opened up. Bucky had no problem with keeping up with Hill's long strides.

There were more agents on this floor and more rooms. Bucky had only been on the fourth floor once or twice in the last few months. It was meant for interrogation and archives. He hated this floor, more than the holding cell and the small apartment S.H.I.E.L.D. "gifted" him with.

The first time was his arrival and immediate interrogation by Fury. The second was when Steve lead him to a section of archives on Hydra, on  _him_. He felt very ill that day, and would think about the things he read on his file every other day.

After a sharp left, they approached the second door on the right. Hill knocked once before entering; Bucky followed. There was a small room with a glass wall-one way glass, Bucky noted - and another door leading to the other side of it. Steve stood with his back to them and arms crossed. He had yet to change out of his uniform, and he looked exhausted. Through the glass wall stood Natasha with a dark, frustrated look. And sitting in front of her, cuffed to a chair, was Verdona.

Bucky's jaw clenched, but he was pleased to see the man battered and bleeding from his lip and nose. Some of it was Natasha's work, he guessed. Darkness stirred in his chest, and the echoes of bars rattled in his mind.

Steve looked over his shoulder, and his brows rose in surprise to see his friend along with Fury's second in command. "Buck…"

"I expect you to be here tomorrow morning, Barnes," Hill said before turning to leave.

The guard who followed looked like a lost child, looking between the door and the two super soldiers. Bucky sent him a glare, and he paled before fleeing into the hall.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked.

Bucky took a few steps past him and stood in front of the window. He didn't answer him; he didn't  _know_  if he was okay. Perhaps he wasn't.

Steve stood beside him, and they both watched Natasha circle around their prisoner. It was like a game of cat and mouse. They way she walked and looked almost seemed predatory. Bucky could've smirked; Black Widow suited her so well.

He envied her. He wanted to be on the other side of the wall, but interrogating wouldn't be apart of the equation. That metal arm of his would crush Verdona's windpipe to dust. His whole body craved it, the feeling to destroy. If only he finished the deed...

"Natasha had to do it."

Bucky sighed, lifting his arms to cross them over his chest.

"I know."

_Crunch_. There was a shriek, and the corner Bucky's lips turned up. Natasha dug the heel of her foot in the middle of Verdona's face, and blood poured down his chin from his broken nose.

Steve nodded towards the wall adjacent to the glass. Beside Steve's things was Bucky's duffel. "Thought I'd bring it to you. Guess I don't need to, now that you're here."

Bucky gave him a silent thank you, crouching to unzip it and pull out a shirt and a pullover sweater. He unbuckled, unzipped, and unclipped the protective armor over his chest. He pulled it off of him before doing the same to the sweaty shirt we were underneath. Pulling on the clean, soft clothes should have made him feel better. It didn't. It made him feel worse. He didn't deserve something nice to wear.

He eyed the jeans he had thrown in there and the sneakers. Kicking off his boots and uniform pants, he pulled on the rest of his clothes. He could only imagine the look on someone's face if they were to walk in on the Winter Soldier changing. He'd give them a hard glare.

He patted the front of his jeans, pulling out his phone as he returned to Steve's side.

"What did that man do to you?" Steve asked quietly.

Steve wasn't ignorant. He knew almost everything that Hydra did to his friend. The way Steve had asked the question made a cold chill run throughout Bucky. The things that many Hydra members did to him… The sins that he committed…

There were faint screams in his mind as he answered softly, "Just some of the unforgivable stuff."

Bucky kept his eyes trained on the glass as he turned on his phone. He watched Natasha speak, asking a couple questions. He could hear everything through the small speak implanted on the wall above him. The words, however, didn't reach his ears. The only sounds he registered was the connecting of a fist or boot to Verdona's face and chest.

An anxious feeling washed over him every time the man screamed.  _He_  should be the one doing this, he thought

"They wanted to make me stronger then," Bucky said. "So he experimented. Came up with concoctions of shit that I can't even name. He shot it through my veins, tortured me… wanted to see how much I can take."

He smiled bitterly as he looked at Steve. His phone lit up in his hands as it finally turned on, illuminating the twisted look in his eyes.

"Made me stronger, but not as strong as you." Bucky shook his head, and tapped the side of his temple. "Left me pretty battered inside though."

Steve sighed. "It's over now."

"Is it?" Bucky spat. "At night, some fucked up stuff goes on in my head, Steve. Verdona is only a small percentage of what I think about at night. The hardest of memories come back to me every now and then, more often than the good ones. The things that I see… The stuff that I relive? It's barely over."

Bucky went around him to pick up the sling of his duffel. "Keep an eye on Verdona. The bastard's a terrible sneak."

He made it towards the door before Steve spoke up again.

"You're doing really well," Steve looked at him. "Don't let all this progress go to waste."

"It won't," Bucky muttered.

He closed the door behind him, right after Verdona released a pained yell. It was hardly satisfying.

Bucky returned to the elevator, and he pressed the first floor button. As the elevator hoisted itself up, Bucky's phone began vibrating. He opened it up, and was surprised to see fourteen messages. He groaned and slumped back against the elevator wall.

Every message was from Eva.

The time read half past two in the morning. Was it really that late? Every message he read was a series of questions asking where he was, if he was alright. He had forgot about their plans. He thought he'd get there at nine, but that was hours ago now.

He swore under his breath. She must be mad at him. She must think that he was a jerk, an asshole who didn't respect her.

When the elevator opened up, he exited with frustrated strides. The man at the desk paid him no mind as Bucky threw open the door and left the building. It was exceedingly cold, and snow crunched under his feet. Bucky swore again, and as he realized that he had forgotten his gloves, scarf… basically everything that kept him warm.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets as his breath frosted every time he exhaled. There were no cars driving around, and the clouds above looked dark and heavy. The light pollution of the city made them look like a hazy orange. It looked like it was going to snow soon.

All Bucky thought about was sleep, Eva, and Verdona. He walked bitterly with these thoughts as he swam with anger and guilt. He was angry at himself, at everything. The horrible clanking of bars made his head hurt. All he wanted to do was crouch down on the sidewalk and scream until his throat bled

_Eva_ , he thought. She must have been sad or disappointed. Bucky's heart lurched at what she must have thought when he didn't show up for pizza at her place. If she thought that he hated her or something worse…

Bucky knew that he was overthinking this, but the guilt was still parasitic.

He stopped walking after an hour or so. It was a little past three thirty now. He dug into his duffel to pull out his keys to the apartment, but stopped as he trailed his eyes upwards. It wasn't his apartment building.

Of all places, he didn't think that his feet would lead him to Eva's doorstep. Perhaps his subconscious was that powerful.

He stared at the door for some time, unsure of what to do. His face was cold, and any moment now his nose would fall off. His phone was in his hand, and the other held his keys. He could go home.

No. Leaving did not feel right.

He stuffed his keys into his pocket and took hold of the door knob. He groaned; he'd forgotten that only someone within the building could buzz him in. He stared at the doorknob for a few moments, until his hand clenched and there was metallic crunch. He released the handle and gave the door a light push. It opened up for him.

It was eerily lit as always, and the heater in the building made terrible noises, like something that was caught in a vacuum. He scaled the steps, anxiety bubbling in his stomach the closer he got to her door. His senses told him to go back, that there was no point in even being there. He kept fighting back with the thought that he  _had_  to knock on her door.

And he did. He didn't realize that he stood there and was lowering his hand after knocking three times. There was no way she'd answer; it was late and everyone was asleep.

But the sound of a dog barking made him jump. There was a scratching on the other side of the door, and a soft whine. He waited, and waited, the only sound being the dog.

He sighed, and realized that she was asleep. He should have expected that. Bucky adjusted the strap of the duffel on his shoulder, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. With a sigh, he turned to walk down the hall. He scolded himself. What was he expecting?

When his hand touched the railing, that was when he heard it. The sound of a lock turning, and a door opening up. The barking had ceased, and Bucky craned his neck to look. He would've smirked if the strong sense of panic welled up inside him.

Eva stood there with a frown as she hugged her arms. Her hair was messy from rolling around in bed, and she had on a large t-shirt with sweats.

"What happened to you?" She breathed and she crossed the hall with her dog at her heels.

His brows pinched together in slight confusion. He imagined her to punch him in the arm, or yell at him, for skipping out on her. She was supposed to be  _angry_ , but she wasn't. If anything, her face softened with worry as she touched his arm. Her hand trailed up to his neck, and he understood. He was bruised, and still had dried blood on him. Hell, he couldn't think of an excuse.

"It's been a rough night," he sighed.

"Come inside," she tugged on his elbow. "I'll put a pot on…"

Eva pulled him into her apartment, and she shut the door after Archie waddled in. Eva lead him into the kitchen, made him sit down as she busied herself. She was nervous; Bucky could tell. She fumbled with the knob of the stove, and made too much noise as she moved about. When she set a kettle on the stove, Bucky spoke up.

"I'm sorry."

Eva glanced at him with a frown as she ripped a square off a paper towel roll. She gripped a small bowl of water as she sat down beside him. "It doesn't matter."

"You should be mad." Bucky watched her dip a corner of the paper towel and bring it up to his neck. His instinct was to pull back, but he stayed still for her.

"Maybe I am," she said. "I think anyone would after ordering two boxes of pizza to eat alone."

A small smile was played on his lips. "I'll pay you back."

She ignored that, and cleaned around the place where the pellet from the Night-Night pierced his skin. There was a dark bruise, and Bucky could see her eyes widen slightly as she tried to restrain whatever she was battling with. She must've been afraid, he thought. He wanted to know why she would be afraid.

"Was this what occupied you for so long?" Eva asked him quietly. She lowered her hand and held it with the other.

"Yeah."

She nodded to herself. "At first I was kind of pissed when you were half an hour late. I kept texting you, and then I started to get worried, that maybe you got… I don't know, you got hit by a car? Now, though… Seeing you look like death and all battered up at four in the morning?  _What_  happened to you, Bucky?"

The words that left her mouth rang in his ears, and he didn't know how to respond. A while ago, he thought about the internet and how everything had been leaked onto the stream of information. He wondered if Eva ever searched about the helicarrier incident, if she ever came across Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files, maybe  _his_ files.

Would it had been easier if she found out through a link about his position in the last few decades?

The look on Eva's face was genuine, and something began to hurt in his chest. Bucky couldn't stand that look in her eyes, but he didn't know how to proceed. He always knew what to do, yet he couldn't figure out how to answer a simple question without it blowing up in his face.

"Is it bad?" Eva took his attention again.

He swallowed thickly, and he nodded. He heard her sigh, and move to turn off the stove. He watched her carefully; he was uneasy, and he knew that she was the same. Something tore at his gut, at the thought of her being wary around  _him._

The metal of his hand was still cold; he could feel it laying still in his pocket. Bucky felt something strange in his head, and perhaps in his chest too. He wasn't sure, but once his shoulder began to ache, a new series of thoughts began to bother him.

It was strange, Bucky thought. He was always so sure of himself. Even before his fall, he was sure that he never thought twice. He was arrogant then, maybe even now, but every step he took was with fiery confidence. He didn't have to think of right and wrong before the helicarriers. He wasn't given a choice in how to act; he just did. Seeing Steve, however, had almost destroyed the wall around his head and heart. He became unsure of himself for those split moments. He was unprepared for new encounters, for people to engage him with their heart. People fought him, tried to kill him; but he knew what to do.

These  _emotional_  things… He didn't know how to handle them. There was no training, no pre-programmed information for his cognition. He didn't know what to do, or what to say to Eva. Somehow losing her friendship felt different from losing Steve's. No matter Bucky did, Steve lacked the right sense of mind to turn him away; Steve wouldn't give up Bucky for the world, no matter how terrible a deed he did. Eva was different. She was hurt by too many things; she couldn't handle the deeds that he did. He was selfish in keeping her blissfully unaware of his job, who he had and currently worked for.

Everything that he may have forgotten, no matter how lost he felt in keeping up relations with people, he knew that one thing was for sure. Eva deserved to know someone who was honest with her.

"Bucky, what's wrong?"

She was frowning when he looked up. She held a mug of coffee in both hands, extending one towards him. His heart pounded in his ears as he stood up, and he pulled out his hand from his pockets. The pads of his fingers clinked against the ceramic, and brushed hers.

_This is wrong._

He watched her brown eyes widen by a fraction, and slowly averted her gaze to the mug in her right. He asked himself what he was doing, that he should stop and leave her home. He didn't pull his hand away, even when he took in the look in her eyes. The dull kitchen light reflected off the metal and onto her face.

"Was this that accident you told me about?" He could barely hear her; her whisper was so quiet. "The one that put you out of work?"

He nodded. "Yes," his throat began to hurt. "Sort of."

_This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong._

"A-and…" He watched her throat bob as she swallowed. "Bucky?"

He pulled away from her, and pushed up his sleeve. Eva took a few steps back, and set the mugs on the counter; her hands were shaking so terribly that it managed to scare Bucky. She looked up the length of his arm, from his fingers to his elbow with wide eyes. Her hand held her face, and only stood there without a word.

_This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong._

His shoulder was on fire, and his throat hurt. He could only ask her one thing, because it was the only thought that blared in his head.

"Are you afraid?"


	15. Fragile Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has to be, by far, my favorite chapter of this fic. Enjoy :)

" _Are you afraid?"_

His heartbeat was similar to a humming bird's. So fast, so erratic that it could have ripped from his chest. The only time Bucky's heart would beat that quickly was when his memories were wiped. The blood rushed in his system and into his ears, drowning out the sound of the dog whining in and the old heater rumbling by the window.

The look in Eva's large eyes nearly killed him. He wondered what she would say, if a single word would slip past her parted mouth. He thought about his own answer to the question he had foolishly blurted, and his stomach churned with a crippling anxiety.

_Afraid_.

Bucky was very afraid. He couldn't think of the last time he had felt something so cold grip his heart. He had been scared many times, but the fear was different then. It was the fear for his life and, the cold blue eyes that would blurt out a command and heavy metal would be set onto his head.

He couldn't explore the chill within him once Eva drew his attention to her still frown.

"Bucky, I…" He watched her throat bob as she swallowed, and her eyes fell to his arm again with a strange look.

His skin pricked, and he shoved the sleeve down with bitterness. He suddenly felt like a beast that circus would keep in a cage. It was fun to look at and wonder what it was capable of, but they would not dare touch it nor feel an ounce of humanity for it. Bucky couldn't bear the thought of Eva seeing him as a beast, and they way she looked at him made the self-loathing return.

"Well?" He gritted his teeth. He brought his eyes up to her, and knew that they were filled with anger, fear, and a horrible sadness. He was always so guarded; he didn't understand. How could he let himself be so…  _human_?

"Are you or aren't you?"

Eva stood there, clutching the middle of her shirt and wringing it. She had paled, and her brown eyes were glossy. Bucky didn't want to know why she looked like that. If he let himself process that look, then he'd fall apart.

"I'm…," she said softly, trailing off quickly as she took a hesitant step closer. He wanted to take a step back, but remained stoic. "Yes, I am."

And he fell apart. His heart was tearing at the seams. That horrible organ that tried so hard to live for him, the one that was ripped out by monsters and torn apart before being crudely sewn together, the one that he was sure made  _him_  a monster. His mind went blank as the sounds of metal racking against each other filled his ears. A horrible, twisted feeling was ignited inside of him. He didn't understand why he would let himself go through that. He didn't understand why he expected a different and better outcome.

He should have known that she would be afraid of him the minute he pulled his sleeve up. The blood and bruises on his neck and cheeks, looking like he had just suffered a hundred nightmares… He could only imagine what ideas filled Eva's brilliant head as she put that monstrous arm and his appearance together.

"I'm afraid, but…" she began to say.

Bucky shook his head, berating himself for being a fool. He hear Eva say his name and other words that he blatantly ignored. She was afraid of him, and there was nothing that could let allow him to even listen or look at her.

"I'm sorry," his voice cracked, and he pulled up the strap of his duffel as he pushed past her.

"Bucky?" Eva said. "Wait, Bucky, don't go."

The dog was barking again, and Bucky's mind was absolutely numb from the sounds within his mind. He heard Eva saying his name, telling him to stay. He didn't understand how she could want him to stay when he was this beast in her eyes, when she knew that he was involved in something bad.

He knew what kind of fear was making him so cold inside. The fear of rejection, of not being accepted, of the hope to feel human. His hopes were ripped up and thrown back into his face. Bucky had hoped for normalcy for so long, that maybe society would welcome him with warmth and open arms. He wanted Eva to see him as someone who she could trust and depend on. He wanted so desperately to be her friend. His chest ached at that reveal. Bucky didn't want many things, but this was the one thing he really wanted. Now it was gone.

He felt so small inside. Not even Steve or Sam, or even Natasha when she  _was_  kind to him, could ever stunt the pain of rejection. There were so many things that Bucky could not do on his own, and the one thing he was finally able to do was falling apart. The one friendship he could make on his own without Steve's help was ruined.

Why did it hurt so badly? He couldn't make sense of this hurting wracking him. There was nothing in his mind that could help him cope with this. He couldn't recall any training for this. There was nothing to prepare him for this internal shredding.

As his hand gripped the knob of her front door, so did Eva's hand grip the sleeve of his sweater. He didn't expect someone to grab him, and his body became frighteningly alert. He suddenly found himself holding her against the wall, his arm against her sternum and the metal palm pressed against the wall beside her head. His eyes were cold and unfeeling as opposed to hers. They were shocked and confused as they were afraid, and he began to hate himself so much more.

"There's nothing to say," he said lowly when Eva tried to say his name again. " _This_ …" He slammed his hand against the wall, enough not to crush the drywall beneath it. He felt her flinch against him. "This already gave me the answer."

"But you didn't let me finish," Eva's voice was so soft that it killed him, and it just hurt more. She probably wanted to tell him to leave, to never come near her again.

He shook his head, his arm against her sternum loosening up but remaining. His left hand clenched into a fist. "Say it, and then I'll leave. You won't see me and have to worry for your damn life."

Her frown deepened, and she shifted her eyes to catch a glimpse of the metal appendage before bringing her eyes back to him. She shook her head. "I must be so blind if I failed to notice this," She swallowed. "I must be stupid to have been so ignorant, or you must be good at hiding things."

The words stabbed his back, and his fist tightened.

She chewed on her lip, shaking her head again. "I am afraid, Bucky," she said. "I'm afraid to think of what happened to you. I don't know why you think I should be afraid of you...or...or of your hand. To think about the hell you went through, and to see you looking terrible at my front door…You have something that is so incredible and frightening, and I don't know what to think. I'm afraid to think of what happened to you earlier, and I wonder if this has anything to do with it. It makes me wonder if… if you're suffering because of it."

She looked at him with those big, glossy eyes, and his heart clenched painfully. This wasn't supposed to happen, he thought. This wasn't right.

"I can't even begin to fathom what you went through, and imagining it only terrifies me."

Bucky shook his head and shut his eyes. He couldn't make sense of it. He leant his head beside hers against the wall, and he struggled to breathe. He couldn't piece all the words from her mouth together, and he felt so helpless.

He felt Eva touch his arm, the metal one, and shiver ran through him. He didn't want her to touch him. His heartbeat was in his ears, and his mind seemed to be devoid of all thought. The lack of control frightened him, and he wanted to pull away, but he didn't.

He let out a shaky breath, and let his arms fall though his head remained pressed against the wall. Eva brought her arms up and around his shoulders, and he felt her hold tighten against him. Bucky didn't bring his arms up, just stood still against her. He didn't deserve this.

"I don't understand," he murmured. "This isn't right."

Eva turned his face towards hers with a gentle hand. "I don't care."

"If you knew everything that  _this_ has done," he said. "What  _I've_  done, you would change your mind. And I wouldn't blame you."

She sighed, bring both hands to hold his jaw. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't because I  _know_  you. You're a good guy. I don't think that some fancy-shmancy prosthetic would convince me otherwise. Whatever job this is, it doesn't make me throw out everything that I believe about you."

"You shouldn't say that." Why was she doing this to him? "You don't know-"

"That's right," she interrupted him. "I  _don't_ know, but it won't change."

His throat went dry, and the lump in his throat made it hard to swallow. Her warm eyes were locked onto his cold ones. It sent a shiver down his back. She was filled with such light and warmth that it confused the super solider. He wondered if she was even real, that this was a sick dream and if he were to wake up, he'd find himself being screamed at and cast away.

He shut his eyes with a sigh, and touched his forehead to hers. She was so close to him, and his heart would cease its beating any second. The cold seemed to melt away. He could hear her heart beat, and feel the pulse of Eva's wrist against his neck. She was real, he thought sadly.

He didn't know why he was sad. Something chased away the fear and left something heavy inside him, like a million weights being pressed into his chest. He didn't deserve her.

"How can you be so good?" He muttered.

Eva smiled lightly. "I think everyone has good in them." She dropped her hands to give his shoulders a gentle squeeze. Bucky pried his eyes open and was nearly toppled over by how soft her features were. "Even you have good inside of you."

He shook his head. "I wish I can see what you see. I wish I can tell you everything."

"You don't have to."

"I  _want_  to," Bucky said adamantly. "I want you to know. Just…" He breathed in through his nose to calm his heart, and he was met with vanilla. "Just give me some time to find a way to… to figure this out."

Eva nodded. "You have all the time in the world. I can wait."

He pulled away from her with a nod of his own. She let him walk towards her front door as she leaned against the wall. He let his eyes linger for a moment on her face and kind eyes. He could have sworn that his heart went still for a matter of seconds. He tried to smile back, but it was one of those miserable looking smiles.

He shut the door behind him quietly, and he stood there for a moment with his hand around the knob. He heard a very faint sigh, and then feet padding away accompanied by the dog whining. He hoped that Eva would fall asleep peacefully, that she wouldn't be plagued with worry.

He stuffed the metal hand in his pocket, exhausted from the trouble it gave him. His phone was fished out, and he checked the time. It was well past four in the morning when he stepped out on the snowy streets. The snow had ceased its fall, and there a few early risers driving to their jobs. Bucky stared up for a moment, finding Eva's window. The light was off, but the curtains moved. His lips turned up in the faintest of smiles.

The cold bit him, and his muscles tensed up. He swore to himself, hating the cold and the snow that crunched beneath his heavy boots. The whirlwind of feelings weren't forgotten through his animosity, however. They lingered and poked at his heartstrings and mind. The rattling of bars had ceased, and he let the tension in his shoulders roll away. His fingers were numb. Most of him felt numb, really.

Bucky walked and walked. He had no intention of returning home. He didn't want to return to a place that left him in solitude. The feeling of loneliness would only grow stronger. He wanted to feel warmth, but he didn't know where it could be. He didn't know where to find it, of if it even existed. The only thing he could ever find, or perhaps it always found him, was the cold. It froze his heart, and he tried to thaw it out as best as he could. It always returned to its frozen state.

More cars took to the streets, and the sky had lightened up a bit. The street lamps remained lit, and Bucky didn't bring his eyes up from the snow and concrete. His phone vibrated in his pocket, jolting him from the thoughts in his head. He pulled it out and sighed as he looked at the screen, swiping his thumb over it.

"Hey," he said. His voice sounded a lot more tired than he thought. The weight of the mission and his foolishness was finally taking its toll on his body.

"Where are you?" Steve frantically rushed on the other side.

"I-"

"When I came home, I checked to see if you were at your place, but you weren't-"

"Steve."

"-there! I've been worried sick, Buck. I thought that Hydra must've captured you as revenge for the mission and-"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Breathe, Steve."

"I can't even keep my eyes on you for five seconds, and you put me through the worst heart attack. For a moment, I thought that you were going after them!"

" _Steve_ ," Bucky snapped, and the blond went silent on his side of the call. "I'm fine. Shit, I'm a grown man. I'm not…"

He sighed, and finally looked up. He frowned as he swivelled around, muttering under his breath. He was on Virginia Avenue, and if turned to his right, the National Mall would be there greet him. He pulled his phone away to glance at the time, and he swore. He had been walking for two hours. He held the phone back to his ear, heading towards the direction of the Mall.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked with worry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Bucky said. "I-I'm fine." Steve asked him where he was, and Bucky reluctantly gave him his location.

"I'm coming to get you."

"Steve, no-"

Steve hung up the phone, and Bucky groaned as he shoved the device away. He briskly crossed the street, and cars were finally piling onto the lines to get to where they needed to me. It started snow again, but it was as heavy as it had been a few hours prior. The sun had emerged, though it was still covered by the clouds.

There were few people in the Mall, and those that had showed up were on a routinely run or walking their dogs. Bucky kept his head down as he approached one of the benches. He sat down, and his body felt so heavy from exhaustion. He hadn't slept in twenty-four hours, and his neck and shoulder were starting to throb. He set his duffel at his feet, and was still with his thoughts.

An elderly woman with bright blush walked past him, a look of disdain coating her wrinkled face. Bucky's eyes narrowed, and the woman picked up her speed. When she was out of his sight, Bucky looked down at himself. His clothes were covered in snow and looked baggy. He knew that his neck was still bruised, as well as his eyes, but that was from lack of sleep. His hair was wild and sticking up at odd angles. He must have looked homeless, or like a drug addict.

His mind was lost in an array of thoughts. His face would morph into a scowl when he thought of Verdona, and a horrible anger ran through him. His features would suddenly soften when he thought of Eva. Those thoughts of his were on a roller-coaster, giving him a confusing unevenness to his dopamine release.

Bucky sighed, and he watched his breath turn into thin wisps that floated into the sky. He wished we could stay there on the bench and just rot away into nothingness.

A throat was cleared. So much for rotting away.

Bucky craned his head, and Steve stood a few away, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He looked away from the blond and stared at the people running about. Steve quietly sat beside him. It took him a moment to speak.

"Something's bothering you," He looked to the dark-haired man. "What happened?"

Bucky gritted his teeth, swiping his tongue over them. "What makes you say that?"

"I'm psychic," Steve managed a smile, but his friend couldn't smile back. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," Bucky actually snorted. "Getting shot in the neck does that to you."

Steve chuckled, and the two men watched the clouds slowly part. A small ray of sunlight shone through the opening that was made for it, and it warmed Bucky's face. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.

"I did something really stupid," Bucky said after a few minutes of silence. He couldn't look Steve in the face; he didn't want to see the disappointment.

"Is it bad?"

"I don't know."

"Then maybe it wasn't stupid."

Bucky glanced at him, then heavily shrugged his shoulders. "I went over to her place to apologize for ruining our plans."

He didn't have to explain who "her" was. Steve knew that Bucky wasn't overly fond of the women they worked with. There was only one person aside from him that coax Bucky out of his hard shell.

"And?"

Bucky swallowed back the growing anxiety and frustration. His heart took off again, hearing her softly say those nice things in his ear again. It tore at him. She was so good, but so naive.

"I ruined it," he said quietly.

Steve frowned. "Bucky…"

"Everything was fine," he said. "Everything was fine, and then something just took over me. I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. She deserves honesty. She deserves the whole fucking world after everything she's gone through."

Bucky went silent, and he hung his head. His jaw was locked to keep his sanity from leaving him. He focused on the sounds and smells around him to keep the panic from washing over him. To his right, pigeons were cooing and picking at the concrete for hidden crumbs. Further down from the pigeons, a child was crying in their stroller. He heard the annoyed sigh from its mother. A car honked, and the car beside it reciprocated.

The blond's mind was hard at work trying to understand what his friend was thinking. It was strange to see him like this. It was far from how he usually was. Bucky always looked grim, or had this annoyance set on his face. This new for Steve, and he was sure that this was new for the Winter Soldier.

The girl Steve knew so little about seemed to have meant so much to his friend. He would have been slightly jealous if he wasn't so grateful in the small change within Bucky. When Bucky did talk about her, which was rare, it was with the smallest of smiles. He spoke highly of her; she was good to him, she was kind. This was all Steve wanted for his friend. To expand his willingness to form relationships with others.

It was hard to imagine that something could cause the bridge between Bucky and Eva to crumble away. Steve thought long and hard about what Bucky could have done. He knew that his friend would do nothing to hurt her. He knew that Bucky needed another gentle soul.

And then he realized, and he sighed. Eva would have found out eventually.

"I see," Steve said as he folded his hands. Bucky wouldn't look at him.

"She said it wouldn't change anything," Bucky muttered. "But things are already changing. It keeps ripping me apart. Our lives are changing. S.H.I.E.L.D., me, Hydra, the team…  _Eva_."

"Things are always going to change," Steve told him. "Nothing will ever stay the same."

"But this, Steve," Bucky looked at him, pulling out his left hand to shove it into his view. " _This_  changes everything. I probably just put her in danger. This changes things for the worst."

"You don't know that. You can't predict everything."

Bucky chuckled darkly. "I know that, but I can something inside of me falling apart already. I can already see her face. I'm not good at these kind of things, Steve. Ever since I came here, everything that's good seems to shatter whenever I touch it."

Steve's heart seemed to break a little, but it wasn't as broken as Bucky. He gave Bucky a firm pat on the shoulder. He started to understand what the dark haired man didn't. Steve always seemed to be one step ahead of what Bucky had yet to figure out about himself.

"You like her."

Bucky stiffened beside him, and his chest began to ache. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. He felt her heartbeat, and the warmth that seemed to chase the cold away. He did, he knew he did, but Bucky needed someone to say the words before he could admit it. It scared him.

"I don't want her to get hurt," Bucky whispered.

"She won't," Steve said. "She'll understand."

Bucky nodded, and opened his eyes to stare at the Smithsonian. His stare lingered for awhile, and he let the gears in his head work for a bit.

"Let's go home," Bucky said.


	16. From the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! Hope you enjoy this chapter; this chapter is now one of my favorites!!! Enjoy!!!! Send me comments and love!!!!

Bucky didn't come to headquarters like Hill had asked him to. He hadn't forgotten; he just didn't want to. Nothing could even force him to go. There was too much in that head of his.

And so the days went by. There were sleepless nights, and days filled with stillness. The cat would usually slept peacefully by the fireplace; sometimes she would sleep on the windowsill where she watched the snowflakes and cars speed by below. It was the stillness that left the cat's heartbeat steady and at rest. The atmosphere would have left anyone at peace, gently rocking them to sleep.

The cat did get a little bored, though. It was too calm.

The apartment was in a state of tranquility. It would have bored its resident, but his thoughts kept him occupied. He wouldn't have noticed if the entire living room had shifted. There was too much keeping him awake and silent.

Bucky laid on his side in his bedroom, undisturbed by the world around him except the thoughts that plagued him. His eyes were bruised from the sleep that seemed to evade him. When he did sleep, which couldn't have been for more than twenty minutes at a time, the nightmares came to tear him apart and jolt him awake.

He dreamt of Hydra coming to take him away from the life he had tried to build. Verdona was there with his horrible grin as Bucky was dissected and held down on a slab of metal. Sometimes there were memories of the fall returning to haunt him, of his friend's horrified face screaming for him. It shook Bucky to the core, and he'd slap his face in frustration to shake him out of the mess that tormented him.

Sometimes they were of Eva. He dreamt of that night, and instead of comfort, he received screams and horrible words tumbling from her delicate mouth. There was rejection that utterly destroyed him. Sometimes there were worse dreams; they ended with her lying still, eyes wide, and his metal arm clenched with the fury of the monster who owned it.

His bones seemed to protest when he sat up; it had been hours since he had gotten out of bed. The muscles in his arms and back needed to be stretched out. Bucky ran a hand up his face and into his hair. From the corner of his eye, his medication was just a beacon of orange on his bedside table. The more rational part of him-a small, timid voice in his head-told him to take it. He had skipped the last fews days.

Bucky was more anxious than usual. His hands shook as he grasped the pill bottle in his hand, and he swallowed thickly. Thinking to himself, he noticed that his nightmares were a lot more vivid. The medication blurred them as best as it could, just barely. It was enough to keep him from jolting awake and sweating up oceans at night, but the weight still pressed into his head and chest. It was hard, Bucky thought. It was so hard for some reason.

He tossed the pills on the pillow beside him, feeling very put off all of a sudden. The metal plates in his arm whirred as he stretched his arms above his head, and there was an audible "pop" in his shoulder and neck. He rose, pulling his sweat-stained shirt off himself. Bucky grimaced; he smelled horrible. When was the last time he had showered?

There was a light scratch at his bedroom door, and he shuffled tiredly, grasping the handle and twisting it open. The cat popped her head in before he could open it fully, squeezing her slender body through the crack. She meowed, weaving herself around Bucky's ankles. She missed him. His lips twitched, but he didn't smile. He wasn't really in a smiling mood-not that he smiled much, anyhow.

He watched Maya jump onto the bed, kneading the covers with her paws before curling up into a ball. Bucky shed the rest of his clothes, leaving them on the floor as he ventured to the bathroom. The water was hot as it poured from the showerhead, and Bucky pulled the curtains closed and settled himself under the steam. The water burned his skin and made the metal of his arm hot to the touch. No matter how hot the water was, he still felt the heavy weight inside his chest. He sighed, resting his head against the cool tile wall.

It had been quite some time since he had felt this way. So empty, so miserable. He was reminded of his days spent wandering the states and Western Europe. Such a recluse. The last few months had been a blessing, albeit the frequent night terrors, yet the emptiness in his chest was filled with a warmth that soothed him. It took away the numbness. Even after the two missions, when triggered memories filled terror in his ice-crusted heart, there was always something about returning home that set him at ease. He'd shower off the day or night's labor, watch it circle around his feet and down into the drain. Bucky would pet and feed Maya, and then he'd have light conversations on the phone with…

He clenched his eyes shut. His heart thudded in his chest, and he swallowed thickly. The water scalded his skin, turning it pink and raw. Bucky sucked in an unsteady breath before washing his hair, letting the soap run down his body. He had no energy to clean himself up; his hair would do. His fingers weaved into those troublesome tresses as the scent of the shampoo assaulted his nose, and his mind wandered.

It wandered towards other thoughts, ones that were not numbing or warm. They were scattered, and sometimes he thought about hands other than his, soft hands that held his face, that could be tangled in his hair.

Bucky's arms stopped moving, and his heart began to beat faster in his chest. He shook his head, closing his eyes with a sigh and rinsed his hair. He left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him, and steam followed him into the bedroom. The cat didn't stir from her place.

Looking around, Bucky nudged a pile of clothes with his foot. His room was usually tidy, and everything would be in its rightful place; it was in a state of disarray at the moment. His moping lead to an unnatural untidiness within him. Bucky dressed in a thick sweater and dark jeans, drying his hair quickly with the towel before throwing it in the hamper across the room. He picked up all his clothes, kicking the duffel bag with his uniform into the closet as he dumped everything into a basket.

Bucky made himself coffee, trying to keep himself occupied and devoid in thought. He leaned against his counter, feeling the cold granite press against his back as he looked through the window on the other side of his small apartment. It was snowing again. A grimace etched itself onto his face. He scratched his chin as he listened to the drip of the coffee maker; it had been a while since he had last shaved, maybe four or so days.

A few days seemed like a few years to the man. He hadn't seen Steve in a while. The blond knew well enough that his friend needed his space and time to think. Especially when he learned his lesson after Bucky threw an encyclopedia at him; Steve had allowed himself inside to check on Bucky, naive to think that the Winter Soldier would let him in. Steve hadn't returned since. He sent the occasional text, however, to make sure that his friend hadn't died in a puddle of his own drool and watery thoughts.

Bucky poured himself a mug of coffee and sipped it without letting it have a moment to cool down. It scorched his throat, but he welcomed the sensation with apathy. The smell of the scalding drink brought unwanted memories, and the hairs on his arm rose at the thought of Eva. Suddenly, the coffee did not seem so appetizing to him.

He set the mug down onto the counter with a sigh, running a hand over the side of his face. He remembered her words, and how they both calmed him and set his heart wildly beating. He thought of Steve's observation-or rather his conclusion-of Bucky's deepest, most inner thoughts and feelings about the woman. It made his skin warm at the thought, and he frowned deeply. This was not supposed to happen to him. He was not meant to feel something like… affection or care for another. It made his head throb with the many things he didn't understand about the world and people. The last few days had him wondering if this was infatuation, perhaps just a lack of human companionship in the last seventy years that made her a rebound.

But Bucky knew in his heart that these thoughts were wrong. In his heart, he cared deeply for her. Bucky was unsure of just how much, but he knew that it was enough for his heart to beat erratically and feel the warmth in his chest.

She was the warmth that swept away the chill inside of him.

And she told him that he had all the time in the world, he remembered. The time was for him to tell her everything, but Bucky didn't know how. He didn't even know where to start or what to say. How could he even explain to her, he thought, without frightening her with the gruesome details of his past? If he began with the start of World War Two, Eva would surely pass out from shock.

Bucky grimaced. He hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

He poured whatever was left of his coffee down the drain, setting the mug in the sink. He ran a hand through his hair, gazing around his living room. It didn't suffer his lack of cleanliness unlike the bedroom. But there was something unwelcoming about it, and his stomach churned uneasily as he stood in the space. Without a second thought, Bucky shoved his feet into his shoes and shrugged on his coat by the door. He needed to leave the constricting space.

His house keys jingled as he locked his door, and he almost jumped when he heard footsteps approaching.

"Hey, man," Sam smiled as he brushed the snowflakes on his arms. Bucky assumed he was here to see Steve. "Going out?"

Bucky brushed past the man, and Sam was not surprised that he didn't get a response.

"See ya', Sarge," he heard Sam call as he descended the stairs.

The cold air felt biting and sharp against his cheeks as Bucky opened the main door. He turned right on the sidewalk, throwing a pair of keys into the air to catch it by the car key. He clicked the unlock button, and a Prius lit up. He was sure Sam wouldn't miss his car for a few hours. It wasn't Bucky's fault that Sam was so oblivious to simple pickpocketing.

The car was small for his frame, and his knees nearly brushed the steering wheel. Bucky started the engine and pulled the parking brake, steering onto the road. There wasn't really a particular place that he had in mind; he'd let his hands decide where to steer.

Bucky joined the light traffic, stopping at traffic lights and making slight turns, changing lanes. For a moment, he pretended that he was like everybody else. He was just another man driving a wimpy sedan. When the car stopped at a red light, Bucky glanced at his neighbor in her car, who made faces in the rearview mirror at her small child. He briefly wondered what her story was; he wondered what each person in their car had to say.

They all lead normal lives, had normal routines. Some of them were probably happy with their lives. Some must have been just as miserable as Bucky was in some point of their lives. Some of them must be married, had arguments with their spouses over money, over dinner ideas. Maybe they were divorced. They all lived in big houses or in small houses, maybe with children or some pets. They worried over health and college tuition. They were on their way to buy their Christmas presents, or returning home to wrap them. Some must have been returning home for Christmas to see their parents and relatives. Such mediocre people leading dismal lives.

Bucky craved it. Normalcy. He was sure Steve did, too. Maybe even Natasha or Fury.

Eva had normalcy. She also had pain and sadness, as well as happiness, anxiety, excitement... She always looked so happy when Bucky was around her. Did she smile because of him or for him? She made him genuinely smile. He wondered if he liked her because he could pretend that he was a normal man, that he was just another somebody that acted like a silly, infatuated juvenile.

Bucky sighed. He knew that wasn't true. He didn't know what exactly made him care for Eva so much. With more thought, perhaps, and time, he'd know.

A car honked behind him, snapping Bucky back to reality. The light was green, and he had yet to move. His eyes flashed to the rearview mirror, and he could see an angry man honking his horn with impatience. Bucky flashed him a glare of his own as he sped forward. Even if he didn't live the normal life like everyone else, he and others like him still had to deal with traffic.

After some time, Bucky found himself in the National Mall once more. He suppressed a sigh. He seemed to be going there often as of late. Something about the place seemed to raise questions, provoke thoughts, and leave him with odd answers. Eventually, he pulled over and parked beside a sandwich shop. He sat there for a while and watched the cars go by. The snow did not stop falling, and he frowned. His put on his baseball cap- a Yankees cap from Steve's visit to New York- and wrapped his scarf around his neck. Bucky put a couple quarters into the meter and left the car.

Bucky stuffed his gloved hands into his pockets. He went around the corner, crossed a street, and walked a bit further down the icy sidewalk. He grit his teeth when the wind blew into his face. Damn winter and all that it brought to the city.

He walked up concrete steps, and he glanced up and looked around him. The Smithsonian was as busy as ever. He waited for a few minutes in the line before buying his ticket, keeping his eyes down and saying few words. He must have scared the teenager working the booth with his quiet and dark demeanor. He was suddenly reminded of all those months ago after the helicarriers. A shiver ran through him.

Small children ran past him, and the activity within the museum made him very tense; not even those last few months of walking up to the library, going to the mall once or twice, or small cafes could make Bucky get used to the noise. The intercom announced its welcome to the guests, the number of exhibits, and whatever nonsense that flew past Bucky's ears. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and he looked around.

His feet took him to a section of the museum, and he wandered around the Early Flight exhibit. He glanced at some of the old models on display, and his nose scrunched up a bit when he looked at the Ecker Flying Boat. The thing looked ready to fall apart if he just breathed. Most of the exhibits he looked at made him either impressed-which only happened once or twice - or critical.

With every exhibit he entered, every display was scrutinized. Bucky didn't mean to be pretentious; he appreciated history, but he wasn't overly fond with the way things looked. If he looked at a quinjet, he would think that is one of the most beautiful things the twenty-first century had conjured up.

When he entered the Jet Aviation exhibit, he came across a plane from the forties. He knew this plane. The Phantom, a blue plane with a large white star and red and white stripes. He vaguely remembered within his scattered memories that he teased Steve about it, because it looked like they had splattered his silly costume onto the plane. Bucky may not connect with most of the aircraft around the exhibit, but he sure did connect with this one. It filled him with a mix of comfort and uneasiness. It made Bucky wonder what became of the rest of the models like it.

Bucky wasn't disgusted with it. He had respect for all the prototypes and inventions that had snowballed into modern day air and spacecraft. However, looking at these old models made him feel sorry for them. They were prehistoric little things that sat there, collecting dust, being gazed at for days on end. People glanced at them and moved on without much interest. He wondered if that was how people looked at Steve before he was found in the ice. Just another man forgotten in history before giving the world a heart attack.

It must have been the same for him, too. Well, perhaps for the people in S.H.I.E.L.D. and a few others that knew he had actually been alive all these years. He was just another name engraved in a wall, another man who gave his life for a country that he was now not so sure about. He wasn't sure about a lot of things. Steve, though, Steve never forgot him. He wasn't a name in a textbook or a name on a wall. He was the man's friend. Steve had mourned for the longest time.

"Fuck _me_..." he groaned and rubbed his eyes.

"There are kids around, you know."

He looked up in the direction of the voice. She hadn't even made a sound of approaching. It was to be expected though, after all. It was in her skill set.

"Go away," he said tiredly.

Natasha arched a perfect brow as she she came to stand beside the super soldier. She crossed her arms and looked up at the Phantom. A smirk ghosted her lips.

"This definitely screams Steve," she chuckled lightly.

Bucky did not smile nor chuckle. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before shoving his band back into his pocket. He didn't take another look around the exhibit as he turned for its exit. Natasha followed him, her face impassive. The two walked side by side in the large hallways, dodging a group of children that ran after each other with an angry teacher hot at their heels. The museum was alive with people while its inhabitants were housed by displays that had seen better days.

He remembered something about how museums never changed, only the person did. He couldn't remember if he read that in a book, or perhaps Eva had said it. Maybe it was the latter, or maybe it was both. Eva did have a knack for wise words. She was a book herself, a book with tiny little secrets that he had yet to unravel. Hopefully, Bucky would a chance to do that just that, if she allowed him.

"Sam is pretty pissed," Natasha said casually as the entered the Captain America exhibit. Bucky had been trying very hard to avoid this section of the museum; he had wanted to work his way up to it, to save himself from the tornado of guilt, confusion, and depression. Yet, here he was. "He didn't even see that coming."

"He shouldn't have made it so easy to take his keys, then," Bucky countered. He lifted the edge of his scarf up higher to hide his neck and lowered his cap.

Natasha snorted. "If you think you're doing a good job of disguising yourself, think again. You look suspicious. Relax."

He shot her a glare. "If I needed fashion advice, I would have asked you by now." He sighed again, stopping to glance at the old motorcycle Steve used back in the day. "What are you doing here, Romanoff?"

"Can't a gal just come to look at some history?" He shot her an unamused look. She gave her own sigh; he could never lighten up around her. "Steve's been worried about you. Hill is pissed with you. Fury thinks you're a big baby-" Bucky frowned at her. "-you've gone into dramatic mode and making people worry. I don't want to keep having Steve whine to me about you."

Bucky's jaw locked, and he balled his fists. "Dramatic? I am not being-"

"Yes, you are," Natasha insisted. She walked after him as he moved to the Howling Commandos display. "Everytime bad something happens, or if something doesn't work out, you become a recluse. You avoid everyone and sulk for days. You need to grow up. There are worse things in the world. I'm not saying that has happened to you isn't horrible; what Hydra did to you was inhumane and monstrous. But you need to learn how to deal with it without getting Steve upset. Don't shut people out."

She didn't raise her voice or sound angry. Natasha was straightforward; nothing was held back. Bucky was surprised, and he felt immediate annoyance that caused him to grit his teeth even more. It didn't help that he knew-despite her ability to completely agitate him to the point where he shut her voice out-she was right.

It made Bucky think back to earlier as he wondered about the memories of the past, of Steve still giving a damn about him after all these years. The man cared so much, even when Bucky growled at him and told him to leave and give him peace. He made sure that Bucky was well and gave him his space. Bucky frowned; it never occurred to him that this was Steve's form of redemption. The blond must've felt guilty, knowing that while Bucky lived under Hydra's torment, Steve had been oblivious to it. He was trying to make this right, even though that it was none of his fault.

He'd been a shitty friend. Natasha was right, and she knew that he agreed by the sudden shift in his face.

"So stop whatever this is, go tell your girl or not tell her, and quit making your friend worry about you."

He frowned deeply. "What do you mean, 'Tell your girl'...?"

"Tell her who you are, or whatever you plan to do."

He stopped in his tracks and looked at her with wide eyes. People pushed past them and glared at them for the shift in traffic within the exhibit. She had a knowing smirk that made him itch with frustration.

"How…"

"Steve," she answered him, and she continued before his gaze could darken. "He didn't tell me, if that's what you're worried about. When he mentioned you hiding out at your place, I knew that this isn't your usual bouts of self-loathing after a mission. You did something stupid."

He narrowed his eyes and had the urge to shake her like a rag doll. They didn't say anything for a while as they continued their walk around the exhibit. Natasha slowed down when he did, and they both gazed up at his memorial. A shiver ran through him, just like it did the last time he had come.

The display was the same. Nothing had changed about it. The picture of him, a mere ghost that he vaguely remembered, stared into his eyes. The voice recording reiterated Bucky's supposed importance to Captain America and the Howling Commandos, his time in the service, his friendship with Steve, and the time of his death. It all made Bucky very ill.

Sometimes he couldn't believe that he was really this man. This was one of those times. And yet, once in awhile, he felt like the old Bucky Barnes. The fun man who liked to smile and laugh. It was so rare that he would feel like that, and only Eva could actually bring it out. It was amazing, he thought. There wasn't a thing that she couldn't do to him.

"She needs to know," he said quietly. To himself or to Natasha, he was unsure. "I need to tell her."

"I don't care if you do, just know this," she said. There was a seriousness in her voice that he had never heard before, and he looked up at the master assassin. "Her safety might be compromised. If anyone finds out, the bad guys… maybe even the good guys, will use her against you. You gotta be careful about this, Barnes. There is a reason why a good majority of us don't form relationships, especially with jobs like ours. Our positions and our loved ones can be compromised. Families are put into hiding, some of us go off the grid, some of us go under K.I.A. or missing so our friends, families, and the people we care about don't have to suffer."

The two didn't move for awhile, and they stared at the glass portrait for a little longer. Bucky fought with his thoughts, wondering what he should do. For the second time that day, he knew that Natasha wasn't wrong.

He wanted Eva to know everything, but now he wasn't so sure. There was only so much he could tell her. Even being around her was a risk all on its own; he didn't know who was watching. He didn't want to thrust her into the mess of his life and the danger that was tied to it.

But he liked her so, so much. He was selfish, in a way, to keep her around. She was so good to him that it just killed him, which made it harder for him. She needed to know who he was. Bucky was surprised that she hadn't figured it out yet. For someone who read, she sure didn't have a clue as to who hell he really was, or had been. He wondered if she had even visited the exhibit. He was sure that history classes taught about World War Two, as well Captain America and his Howling Commandos. There had to be a history book on them…

Bucky turned to Natasha. "Can you do a favor for me?"

Her brows raised, and then she smirked. "Is the Winter Soldier actually asking for my help?"

He wanted so terribly to just roll his eyes and walk away, but he needed her help. Even if it killed his pride a little.

"Yes," he sighed. "Now can you do me a favor?"

* * *

It was a slow day at the library. Not many people checked out books these days, especially now that Kindles were in their prime and no one had the energy to actually set foot in a library. The only people that hung around were the local college kids studying for their mid-terms. It was quiet, and Eva relished in it. She needed some peace and quiet, even if it meant doing nothing.

She sat the return desk, a philosophy book in her hands. Eva wasn't particularly fond of Nietzsche, but she continued to turn the page. It was all she could do to occupy her mind, so that it wouldn't linger to a certain person…

A sigh left her. Eva set the book down and removed her glasses to set on top of the cover. She rubbed her tired eyes, glad that she wasn't wearing any eye makeup that day. She was worried about him. Her heart told her that something was wrong while her mind convinced her that Bucky was a grown man, that he was fine. Something told her that he wasn't okay, however. He hadn't called or texted her. He hadn't swung by to get a book from her.

She knew that it had to do with that night a while ago. She could see how torn he was, inside and out. The arm, though, the arm that was absolutely clueless to made this all the more worrisome. She spoke the truth that night; he didn't scare her. It was what he was involved with, what his job was, that scared her. She feared the worst, and she hoped that she wouldn't turn on the TV to see his face above a headline speaking of his murder.

_No_ , she thought as Eva shook her head, _he's strong. He knows what he's doing_.

Someone cleared their throat in front of her, and Eva snapped her head up. A woman, with a shock of red hair tucked under a beanie and sunglasses on her face, stood there with a book in her hands. Eva wanted to frown for a moment. How odd for someone to wear sunglasses indoors, on a cloudy day no less. Eva could tell that she was beautiful, though, and she suddenly felt inferior in comparison.

"Can I help you with something?" Eva offered the woman a pleasant smile.

The woman's lips turned up in a smirk. She held up the book in her hand. "Just need to drop this off."

She set it on the desk beside Eva's book, and turned on her heel, sending Eva a wave. "You have yourself a Merry Christmas."

Eva's brows pinched together at the oddness of what had just happened. It was so abrupt.

"Merry Christmas…" Eva said after her, but the woman turned the corner. "Okay…"

She looked down, prepared to scan the book into the system. The library had finally upgraded after so long, throwing out the ink pads and little numerical stamps; Eva was impressed with technology. No longer would she have to scrub ink off her hands after her shifts.

But there was no barcode on the book. Eva frowned, wondering if they had forgotten to add one on the book, or if it had been ripped off by the strange woman. Eva turned it over and looked on its spine, but there was nothing. She stared at it; the book was brand new and it looked oddly familiar. She thought for a moment before it came to her.

Her brother had this copy sitting on his bookshelf, a souvenir from the Smithsonian gift shop in honor of the Captain America exhibit. Eva was sick the day David had asked her to go, and he got her book on spacecraft.

Eva turned it back to the front cover. _A History of America's Greatest Heroes_ by Norman Reid, featuring commentary from Howard Stark, Margaret "Peggy" Carter, and Jim Morita. The cover featured the American flag and Steve Rogers in his old uniform from the nineteen forties. She smirked; this picture had nothing on him now.

A tiny slip of paper stuck out from the inside, and Eva was a little curious. She opened the front cover and turned a page or two to the table of contents; there, a piece of paper faced her. She picked it up and was caught by the familiar handwriting. She knew this handwriting very well by now, especially after all those failed games of 'hang-man'.

_Page 62. It will tell you all you need to know. Happy reading._

_-B._

Eva arched her brow, rather intrigued by this point. She knew that this was all tied to that night, and she wondered what could possibly be hidden within the text. Her stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies as she turned the many pages to sixty-two. As she turned the pages, she glimpsed at the pictures of Captain America, before and after the serum had taken effect. She was impressed with the propaganda photos, and smirked at medals he had received.

Page sixty-two of the book was faced up at her, and she glanced down over the small paragraph. A large photo had taken up most of the page, and it was titled, _The Howling Commandos_. Eva glanced at the seven heroes in the black and white photo. She took in the faces, forever youthful on the page. There was Dum Dum Dugan, Pinky Pinkerton-the name made Eva snort- and Steve Rogers, of course, and beside him…

Her eyes widened, and she had to blink a few times. Eva scrambled to put her glasses on, and she leaned in closer to look at the man beside Steve Rogers. There was no way, she thought. She read the paragraph at the top, introducing the Howling Commandos name by name and the next chapter. Her hands began shaking as she flipped through the pages to stop at his name and his small biography. She read it quickly, so quickly that she had to go to reread it for a second time, and a third, and a fourth…

_Best friends in their childhood, sergeant of the 107th, his capture, his best friend saving him, his service to his country and the Howling Commandos, his fall from the train, his death, his memorial_ …

Impossible. It was all impossible, Eva thought as she flipped back to page sixty-two and looked at the picture once more. His familiar face stared back up at her, as did that familiar smile. It couldn't be, she shook her head. There was no way. He was dead, it was absolutely impossible.

And yet so was Captain America. Everyone had believed him to be dead up until a few years ago, a man frozen out of time. He was the impossible. Eva swallowed thickly, and she sat there with her head in her hands as she stared at the man's face.

"Impossible."


	17. A Dissipating Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who commented, thank you all so much for your kind words! Reading your comments honestly make me so happy and I love hearing what you all think about the chapters! Keep those coming! And I'm glad that you're all so pleased with the reveal to Eva; I wanted to try something different from the famous "talk" that I see in many Winter Solider fics; I just think that it was done a lot, so it would be a little bit boring to read again. As a thank you, I managed to finish this chapter (sort of) early! Hope you enjoy it and I'd love to hear from all of you again! :) <3

A coin was spinning on its side before being slammed down by a metal hand, and then it was back spinning again. Bucky sat there at the glass table, watching the coin. Every time his hand slammed it down, the coin clicked against his fingers. It was a welcoming sound, almost like water droplets hitting a puddle.

Bucky assumed that he liked the sound because it drowned out Agent Hill. The woman did not seem to let up anytime soon as she reprimanded him. A part of him regretted not coming in earlier; he wouldn't be sitting there like a child who had done something wrong. He gritted his teeth. It was a blow to his pride as he watched her pace the room. He lowered his eyes to the coin again. Her voice reminded him of a swarm of mosquitoes; the thought would have made him smirk.

Along with the hum of unheard rambling, Bucky's thought were flitting across his mind quickly. It was a dark storm, thoughts bombarding other thoughts, as it had been this way for last few days. It was harder at night; his mind was in endless chatter and reasoning with himself that he couldn't even sneak in a few minutes of sleep.

It was all with good and legitimate reasons. Eva hadn't called. She had even sent him a little smiley face through text messaging. Not even the stupid one with the wink that made his eyes roll. It made his chest and head ache at the thought that he had done the wrong thing. One thought had crossed his mind: she had read the book-the one he had bought and begrudgingly asked Natasha to deliver-and died from shock. It was the most logical, yet at the same time unrealistic, reason as to why he was left sitting in the dark waiting.

Bucky shooed that thought away. Nevertheless, he was still anxious. He breathed in, trying to calm his veins while remaining stoic to anyone who glanced at him. Time, he thought, only time could tell. If Eva wanted to say something, then she would have by now; he had to learn to settle with disappointment, even if it did sting rather horribly.

"Sergeant Barnes, are you listening?"

He looked up to see Hill glaring down at him and red-faced. "Nope."

She sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We are professionals here. You are under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s surveillance, and you're not exactly helping yourself by disobeying orders. You already have the privilege of being housed outside of the facility. You should be lucky that we're not keeping you in a detention center."

"You were to debrief with Fury like the rest of your team," she added. "But you up and disappear. Not to mention going psycho on our prisoner."

"Could you blame me?"

"No," she admitted. "I get it; bad memories caused you to relapse. However, you need to learn to control yourself, otherwise you'll be suspended from participating in any more assignments."

Bucky fought the urge to roll his eyes. Doing that wouldn't do any good for him.

"Romanoff and Wilson already debriefed with him," Bucky sighed, pocketing the coin. "What difference does it make?"

"A lot," she frowned. "We need every account to be documented so that nothing is left out. I don't know how you did things while under Hydra's control," Bucky managed to glare at her, and Maria waved it off. "Or how great your mission reports were, but everything is a team effort."

It took all his will to not sigh again and get up to leave the room. When Fury entered the room with Steve and Sam in tow, that idea dispersed into the atmosphere. Bucky removed his duffel bag, his uniform folded inside, from the chair beside him as Steve approached and kicked it under the table.

"I'm afraid we'll have to cut this lecture short," Fury began, narrowing his eye at the assassin. "We have a new assignment."

Sam took a seat across from Bucky, still a little pissed off from a few days ago. Bucky would've smirked at the man if Hill wasn't in the room. Sam would get over it soon; at least he didn't crash it or rip the steering wheel out of it this time.

Steve remained standing, crossing his arms over his chest, beside the dark haired man. He was attentive, and in Bucky's eyes, the blond looked ready for battle, like a soldier. He wondered if he ever looked like that. The hairs on the back of his neck rose; he was sure he did, only under a different authority. A soldier ready to do someone's dirty work.

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat before turning his attention back to Fury and Hill. The agent pressed a button, and the glass table lit up as pixels dispersed into the air in front of them, already taking shape of files and faces. A map appeared, and a strange feeling began to build in his stomach. The geography of the land was familiar. Deserts and rock, but that could be anywhere. He had an inkling, though, that this facility was not too far.

"New Mexico," Fury stated, and the corner of Bucky's lip twitched in what could've been a smile. "Down in the Chihuahuan Desert, our sleeper agents have been detecting movement in the area. I had some of our intel zero in on the area with our satellites; it checks out. Got some activity."

"Is it Hydra?" Steve asked as he leaned forward to get closer at the map.

"That's what we think." Fury rounded the table and raised a finger to select a photo. It was enlarged for everyone to see. " _He_ makes it all the more suspicious."

Bucky rose from his seat, the gears in his mind already turning as he peered at the image. A man, perhaps in his mid-forties, with graying brown hair and cold green eyes behind glasses stared back.

"Clark Hoefler," Bucky muttered bitterly, crossing his arms. "Thought he burned down with the helicarriers."

The others in the room peered at him curiously. Fury raised a brow before nodded. "You know him? Actually why I am even asking, of course you do. Used to be one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s until we realized that he was affiliated with Hydra."

Bucky scowled. "Pierce had him recruited over from Berlin to help design the weaponry on the thing. Guy was an elite engineer and one of the main designers. One hell of a chemist, too. For his credit, man's a genius. He can make a bomb out of anything, even one that can liquify someone's lungs just using drain cleaner and styrofoam."

"I'll remember to keep some bleach away from him then," Fury grimaced. "He was spotted in a small town nearby before our agents started to tail him as far as they could into the desert."

"What's this guy doing down there, then?" Sam spoke up.

"That's why I notified you," Hill took over, selecting a map with thermal imaging marks. "Looks like a facility, probably another Hydra based. It's encased beneath and on other side of the rock; not sure how big it is. Some military grade vehicles have been sighted near the location."

Bucky cocked his head to the side, swiping his tongue over his teeth as he stood there in thought. "What are the coordinates?"

Hill frowned at him before touching a small square on the corner of the map. Numbers and cardinal directions appeared. Bucky's brows furrowed together, and there was a sudden pain in the back of his head. He reached up to scratch the throbbing area; Steve glanced at him with slight concern before turning back to the agent.

As the four people in the room began to discuss the other people that had been sighted in New Mexico, Bucky sunk deep into his thoughts. Those coordinates bothered him more than the fact that there were Hydra agents present there. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to understand what irked him. In the distance, within his mind, the bars rattled again. His jaw tightened, and he tried to push away the sounds of talking and metal scraping against each other.

_The nineteen forties,_ Bucky thought. _Military expansion, deserted land, uninhabitable in some southern parts, federal activity, military technology, scientists, German internees, the Trinity explosion, the development of nuclear weapons…_

And then it hit him like a truck. He snapped his eyes open, and he pointed a little ways from the thermal readings.

"It's not just a base," Bucky interrupted whatever Maria was saying. "It's-"

"It's an armory," a new voice entered the room. "A big one, too."

They all turned to face the newcomer at the opening of the room. Dark hair, a cocky grin, and total nonchalance mixed with the radiation of wealth sauntered in. He kept one hand in the pockets of his pressed pants as he glanced at the digital maps, the other hand holding a breakfast burrito. He took a bite out of it, chewing in thought.

"I had JARVIS look into the area for me while I was flying in," he said after swallowing.

"You're late, Stark," Agent Hill said flatly.

"Wanted to stop by the cafeteria," Tony Stark grinned, holding up his burrito. "Send them my compliments."

Bucky's brows rose in slight bewilderment, and he exchanged a look with Sam. When he glanced at Steve, he noticed how rigid he became along with the sour look that overcame his usually calm features. Bucky watched the billionaire strut around the table as he took in all the information displayed before them.

That grin of his made the super soldier uneasy, and a dull pain made him rub the back of his head. He forced his eyes away from Tony and back to the images, trying to rid whatever pricked his senses.

"JARVIS picked up the strongest activity in this small spot," Tony pointed to an area a little ways from the readings on the map; it wasn't highlighted by red and was more secluded compared to everything else on the map. "Those thermal readings aren't from whoever's inside or what coffee machine is being used by those bozos. It's _alien_ technology that's making JARVIS and my sensors go insane after doing a fly by the area."

"There's radio waves that project strong radiation around the area. It would've been picked up by your sats, but something is off about those energy waves. Either it can't be picked up well by regular equipment, or they've designed some kind of… _shield_ to hide that energy from prying eyes."

Fury cursed as Steve's arms gripped the table. He leant against it, a grim line set on his face. "Think it's Loki's sceptor? It went missing after the Triskelion fell."

"Could be very likely," Hill sighed. "Which is why I gathered you all here." The agent glanced at Bucky with a hardened face, and he felt his muscles tense up under a split second gaze before it returned to the billionaire and other super soldier.

"What?" Steve turned to look at Tony who was balling up the foil his burrito was in. "You called him?" He asked incredulously.

"Someone seems jealous," Tony smirked before chucking the ball of foil at him. Steve easily stepped out the way, and Bucky caught it before tossing it in the bin in the corner. The smell of grease made him a bit nauseous. He needed a coffee to set his nerves at ease. "Plus you need to bring in someone who's familiar on the subject," he added. "We already faced alien weaponry, Capsicle; it's nothing new to me or you."

" _If_ it's alien weaponry," Steve corrected him. "They might just be hoarding energy."

"They're just keeping energy in an armory, huh? Sure, sure. They probably have it in a little pink bottle, maybe a couple toy trains lying around, too."

"Won't know for sure until we get there," Sam added, but his comment went unnoticed.

"Which leads back to this meeting," Hill began again. "You're setting out in an hour. I'll send you all the details while you figure out a game plan."

Bucky stood, his stomach churning uneasily as he bent down to retrieve his duffel. Fury dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and he left with his coat billowing behind him. Hill began to shut the equipment down, and all of the data disappearing into the table.

As Bucky was leaving the room to go trade his clothes in for his suit and gear, Steve caught him by the shoulder. Something strange overwhelmed him, and he frowned. Steve sighed, trying not to look so glum in front of him. He wasn't telling him something. Hill glanced at the assassin apathetically before leaving, and Sam glanced at the two men wearily, following the agent. Stark was fiddling with his phone, remaining in the room; Bucky was still unnerved by his presence.

Bucky shook Steve's hand from him. "I'm not going, am I?" He realized with a glare.

"Buck…"

"Did Hill put you up to this?" Bucky seethed. Anger was quick to fill his system, and some part of him felt defeated. The progress Steve had been talking about seemed to plummet.

"No, it was my decision," Steve said. He saw the slump of his friend's shoulders. "I think you need to skip this one. Last mission got you ended up in a cell, and I think-"

"That I'll relapse?"

His mouth opened slightly to sputter out some sort of excuse, but he couldn't lie to him. Bucky wasn't an idiot. He sighed, crossing his arms before looking him in the eyes, even if they were sending him glares that could kill.

"You turned your weapon on me when we saw the chair, and Verdona stirred up hard memories for you," he reasoned. "You ended up in a cell after the mission. Even after the first mission, I noticed that something clearly bothered you. How can we both know for sure that this mission won't do something to you?"

"I didn't point my gun at you on purpose, Rogers."

"I know you didn't, but-"

Bucky's jaw tightened. "You don't trust me."

"I _do_ trust you," Steve said. He swallowed, softening his voice, "I just don't trust what Hill will do if something were to happen again, nor do I trust some people that might try to make you lose focus."

"Nothing is going to happen," he tried to argue. "I'm not going to relapse, so stop worrying. You don't need to bring in some other guy to take my place-"

"For your information, RoboCop," Stark chimed in. "Fury called me in for my _expertise_. On alien technology, I'll have you know."

Bucky stared at the man, unable to fathom the name he was just given or what a 'RoboCop' was. He dismissed him before turning back to Steve.

"You need me there," he said.

Steve set a heavy hand on his friend's good shoulder. "I know, but just take a break. Go out for a walk. I want you to clear your head from Hydra and whatever is haunting you. I know you're not sleeping; you haven't even been taking your pills." Bucky's brows furrowed, wondering how he could've known that before Steve answered his thought. "I snuck into your apartment to hide your Christmas present."

He rubbed a hand over his face, irritation and defeat hanging over him. He shrugged away from Steve, adjusting his duffel onto his shoulder.

"I'm going to the gym," he said without disguising his contempt, and he headed out the door. "Have fun on your mission."

He could hear Steve say his name as he strode down the hall, as well as a snide remark from Tony that made him growl under his breath. He accidentally frightened an agent, who stared at him with wide eyes. He took the stairs instead of the elevator and went down a few halls in the direction of the gym. His chest hurt with anger and betrayal as he dumped his belongings onto the ground.

The rational part in his head knew that he was too quick to blame. It wasn't betrayal, he thought as he pulled his sweater over his head, leaving him in a wifebeater. Steve only did what he had to do. Bucky tried to reason with himself, a flurry of dark thoughts messing with his mind.

He wrapped his good hand in athletic gauze before tossing it on a nearby shelf. A few of the agents in the gym looked at him with apprehension as they lifted weights or ran on the treadmill nearby. He was too preoccupied to feel the stares, and he strode towards a punching bag in the corner. Bucky threw a punch at it, and it already began to swing from the force. He wailed at it, releasing all the pent up rage.

Steve was only worried, he tried to convince himself. He was only protecting Bucky, to keep him from losing his mind again and to retain that progress. But that didn't lessen the anger inside of him. He suddenly felt useless, that he was only there to provide information. Bucky was just an asset once again, and when too dangerous, they pushed him away from trying to redeem himself.

Bucky was trying. He was trying so hard to be different, from being the Winter Soldier. The reputation that he had earned over the years seemed to be the roadblock, and it angered him. No matter how hard he tried, it never seemed enough. It was never enough for him to convince everyone that he could control himself, that he could go without bursting into a panicked fit. All he wanted was a chance. He needed to _try_.

He growled to himself, a punch from the cybernetic arm breaking the chains and sending the punching bag flying into the wall. He was slightly surprised that it hadn't torn, but he startled the hell out of the agents. Bucky didn't spare them a glance, only moving towards the equipment closet to haul another one over his shoulder and back towards the corner. He hung it and prepared to swing again.

"Try not to break this one." Bucky swivelled his head to glare at the interruption. Agent Barton stood a few feet away, wiping his forehead with a towel. He was one of the few agents that didn't cower in his presence; it was another thing he respected him for. "I think I'd like to take a couple of swings."

Bucky smirked without a hint of humor, a light snort escaping him. "Can't promise anything."

* * *

Bucky was drenched in sweat, and it felt even worse to wear his leather jacket. It made him feel hot and uncomfortable with the extra disgusting layer on his skin. It was cold, too, which made him mutter under his breath about running away to somewhere warm.

He had driven home from headquarters using Steve's car after the blond insisted. He found the keys in his duffel, and he knew that Steve must have put them in there, knowing that he'd be returning home alone. He tried to be angry, but he couldn't. He was tired of being angry. After pummeling three punching bags into a oblivion, his anger began to dissipate, and he was left in sweat and numbness.

Once the anger had passed, he had simply stood there, staring down at the punching bag he had destroyed. Clint had strolled passed him; a look of surprise didn't grace his face. It was more of a look of amusement. The agent wasn't irritated about not getting a turn at throwing a few punches; he only said a few words.

" _A good punch every now and then can make a shitty day seem less horrible."_

Bucky didn't really see Barton as being a man with many wise words to share; he wasn't some mystic. However, they did comfort the super soldier, even if it was a small impact.

Bucky trudged up the few steps after locking the car door, fiddling with his keys to open the main entrance. The heat of the building warmed his face up immediately, and he exhaled a breath when he shut the door. Bucky eyed the staircase and grimaced; a man like him would easily scale the stairs, jump across buildings, fight fifty men and not feel any ounce of strain. But Bucky was just tired. Everything made him feel unnecessarily tired. Whether it was the weight of the day or all the negativity eating away at him.

Natasha's words from a few days prior decides to resurface, and he frowned as he reached the top stair.

He fished for his keys in his pocket, but froze when he heard the quietest intake of breath. Slowly, he brought his eyes up. Instead of feeling warmth like he normally would, he was met with ice in his veins.

A few plastic bags were sitting at her side as she sat against the door of his apartment, and they rustled when Eva looked up at him. Their eyes were locked, and neither said anything-not a greeting or any word- to break the silence. Bucky was very aware of his breathing, of the air coming through the vent above him, and of the crying of a baby some doors down. He was aware of her breathing, how it had picked up when she caught sight of him.

He heard a heart beating quickly, and he strained his ears. It wasn't her heart that he could hear, but his, and it beat out of fear and the crippling anxiety built up from several days. Its beat picked up as he watched her rise to her feet, picking up the bags with her. He noticed the lightest sprinkle of something shimmery-glitter or something, he noted, that must've spilled in the bag- out from a hole in the plastic.

Bucky swallowed thickly as he took a few steps forward, and Eva did the same, closing the space in between them. He gripped the strap of his duffel with a death grip, and he suddenly all too aware of how horrible he smelled from his rage-filled workout. He wondered when he had been so self conscious.

The dark circles under Eva's eyes were more pronounced than ever, and he wondered if she had trouble sleeping just as he did. A strange feeling formed in his chest; was he the reason? Did she stay up trying to process who he was? He wanted to pound his head into the wall from being completely and utterly foolish. And here she was, at his door after everything.

At least she hadn't died from shock.

He watched her wetten her lips, and followed her eyes as they looked him up and down. She peered at him curiously, as well as something else… something he couldn't really place.

"Rough day?" She asked quietly.

It was something that always amazed him. A man of his skill, trained to be a master killer and reader of human expressions and body language, can easily assess everything about a person. And yet here she was, a small, gentle woman, who lived a quiet and quaint life. She didn't have to be trained to know someone's present feelings or weaknesses.

A small, very faint smile formed at the thought. He nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." It killed him.

"It's nothing you can control," he said with the slight shake of his head. Strands of hair fell out from behind his ears.

She pursued her lips for a moment, and she gave him a soft smile, raising one of the plastic bags. "Sometimes when I have a bad day, I like to work with my hands. Little crafts or projects cheer me up. It's nice when you do it with someone."

Bucky didn't respond. He wasn't sure what to say, really. He could only stare down at her with slight wonder and utter confusion.

When he didn't respond, she looked down at her shoes. "I think it might help."

A moment had passed, and then another. The sound of their breathing and the air in the vent mingled together. Bucky released a breath, and he moved around her, putting his key in the door to unlock it. He pushed the door open, looking back at her. She raised her head up to look at him, looking for an answer.

He stepped aside. "You're not making me touch that sparkly stuff."

A smile grew on her face, and the ice that had been floating idly in his veins was suddenly swept away. Something had suddenly changed, and Bucky would be patient to understand what it was.

Eva stepped inside his apartment, brushing against his arm, the left one; he was too deep in thought to notice. After inhaling and exhaling, Bucky followed her, shutting the door behind them.


	18. Paper Snowflakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Wow, it's been some time. I thought I'd get this chapter done sooner, but work + classes have been a hot mess. But now that's break, I've gotten the rest done and ready for you guys! Thank you all for the reviews; they always make me smile and give me motivation to write. Enjoy! :)

It was a difficult task to calm his heartbeat. As he hung up Eva's coat, Bucky wondered when he had lost his cool and collected demeanor. It was rather embarrassing, he thought, at how easily he could be reduced to blubbering, anxious mess.

From the corner of his eye, he watched her bend down to pet the napping cat by the fireplace. The corner of his lips turned up as he slipped his shoes off. Eva sat down on the floor of his living room, pulling out various booklets of construction paper and tubes of glitter. He grimaced, hoping that he wouldn't have to pull out the vacuum. Or worse, inhaling all that glitter into his system.

He pulled out of his daze when she smiled at him, and a very strong shiver ran down the length of his back. He coughed into his sleeve, excusing himself as he ventured into his bedroom. His nerves were alight with fire, and he took in deep reassuring breaths as he kicked his duffel beneath his bed and rid himself of his sweat drenched clothes. Bucky did a double take in the mirror, eyes trailing from his shoulder to the length of the scars decorating his chest, down to the Soviet star on his upper arm. A cold feeling swept through him, and he watched himself swallow the lump in his throat.

A long sleeved shirt was pulled on. He didn't think he could ever be ready to wear something shorter, nothing that could display that damned appendage.

He returned to the living room, hesitating to sit down. Eva sat cross legged snipping away at a folded piece of blue paper. He sat down from across from her, mimicking that uncomfortable position she sat in. His legs weren't equipped for this. Her eyes wandered to his metal fingers that peeked out from his sleeve, but she made no reaction towards them. It left a strange feeling in his mouth. She glanced at him with a smile, pushing some of the craft supplies towards him.

He arched a brow, fingering through the collection of colored paper. He nodded to her first project. "What are you making?"

She set the scissors down, extending her hands to unfold the paper into an intricate little silhouette. She held it up in front of her face.

"A snowflake," she said before laying it out on the floor in front her. She set one of the plastic bags beneath it, reaching for small glitter glue and began tracing and decorating the design.

Bucky watched her with his elbow sitting on his knee, a hand holding up his head. Minutes ticked by as he watched her color and decorate the little craft, and his mind was off in its own world, set in a slight daze.

This felt so odd for him. Sitting here with her, with silence and domesticity, felt wrong. There was an elephant in the room that neither of them addressed, and he wondered what was holding them back. She should be quivering at her spot as he tried to hold himself together and keep from fleeing or jumping out the window. Instead they both sat there, listening to their breathing and buzzing light bulb in the kitchen behind them.

"Are you alright?"

He felt as if he was doused with cold water. Somehow, his eyes widened to the size of saucers and he struggled to keep his mouth closed. Eva stopped in the midst of her decorating, hand hovering over the ground as she frowned at him. She couldn't be serious, he thought. Always worrying over others when she should worry for herself.

"Are _you_?" Bucky said quietly, staring at the ground. He saw her nod from his line of sight, and she continued on with her snowflake.

He was pulled out of his swirling thoughts when her hand entered his sight, pushing scissors and construction paper toward him.

He glanced up at Eva. "Try something," she said. "It's kind of relaxing."

He gave her a raise of his brow, doubting that he'd actually be at ease as he brutally butchered some paper. He'd be creating more of a mess than actual art. Nonetheless, he dragged a pair of scissors-which were rather small for his fingers-toward him and green construction paper.

Bucky carefully folded the paper as Eva had done, and he folded it again, then once more into a triangle. He gripped the scissors as best as he could and tried to snip at the edges. He was sure that this is what she had just done. He quickly glanced down at her snowflake; how the hell had she managed to cut hearts and little people in the paper without destroying it?

When Bucky had watched her, Eva's fingers seemed to have had a mind of their own, moving swiftly and gracefully at their own accord. She held the scissors firmly and twisted and snipped at the paper with precision and skill, as if she had done it a million times in the best. She probably did do it a million times before. Her snowflake looked perfect, and he would need a miracle for his to turn out looking like… Well, like _something_ at least. He looked down at his folded piece of paper and grimaced. The man could cleanly butcher someone with one flick of his wrist using a frickin' exact knife, but he couldn't hold a pair of scissors. If his thumb hadn't been made of metal, he would might as well accidently cut his thumb off. He definitely needed that miracle right about now.

He struggled to cut a little moon into the paper. The scissors fumbled in his hand and clattered to the floor. Eva glanced at him, trying to hold back a smile as he picked them back up. Bucky tried to play it safe by cutting triangles into the edges.

At least he tried to. He accidentally cut the whole edge of the triangle off. A deep frown was set on his face as he watched the pieces of paper flutter to the floor. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he tossed the objects between them. Eva couldn't hold back a quiet laugh.

"Black magic," he muttered to himself, and Eva laughed harder when she heard him.

"No, it's not," she picked up his abandoned craft and unfolded it. "You're just trying too hard. It doesn't have to be perfect."

Eva held up the unfolded paper in front of her face. It truly was a mess, just as he predicted. Self fulfilling prophecies were rather cruel.

"It looks nice."

Bucky glared at the sad snowflake. "Please don't lie. We both know that it should be burned."

He could tell that she tried to think of something to counter his words. She looked intent on defending the butchered snowflake, yet her shoulders sagged in defeat. Eva looked at the craft in her hands for a moment, and Bucky wondered what was going on as those gears turned. A soft smile wafted onto her lips, and she glanced up at him.

"It's okay to be proud of a mess, though," she said. He watched her rise up from the floor, plucking her now dry snowflake with her other hand, and drift towards the window. She held up the two flakes in front of her. "It just shows how much effort you tried to put into it."

Bucky looked down to the floor, swallowing thickly. A weight was in his chest, and he pondered heavily on her words. They struck a chord with him and played over again in his ears.

"Can you bring me the tape?"

After rummaging through the plastic bag, he found a roll of scotch tape, getting off his feet to hand it to her. She traded his snowflake for the tape and placed hers between her teeth. He watched her rip off a few pieces, taking her snowflake back in her hands to hang up on the window and taping the corners down. The glitter shined in the low light; Bucky supposed he liked it.

Eva moved her gaze to his snowflake, and for a moment, he could feel her eyes drift towards the exposed metal fingers from his sweater. Goosebumps erupted onto his skin, and he wanted to know what she was thinking. She nodded to the snowflake in his hands. "Aren't you going to hang yours up?"

Bucky glanced at it with his jaw becoming rather tense. "It's not pretty to look at it."

Eva smiled softly, ripping a few pieces of tape off and extending them to him. "It's okay. It's nice to hang up crafts around the house, even if they are a little messy."

He sighed, a faint smile growing on his face. A few pieces of tape were pulled off her fingers and he taped the snowflake a bit lower than hers on the window. He smoothed the adhesive over the paper and glass, and something familiar was swirling about in his head. It was comforting when he closed his eyes and thought about that strange feeling. There was no pain in his head, just an odd warmth.

It made him think of something distant, and he could see warm colors around him and feel a calming air. A scent lingered in the air, and Bucky could catch just a hint of it for a brief moment: spices, sugar, and firewood. Glimpses of colored paper fluttered from the ceiling and the aged windows. He had done this before, he thought, a long, long time ago.

Eva stepped back, clutching her hands together behind her and looked at the window with a thoughtful smile. Bucky moved beside her, trying to see what she could; there was nothing for him to understand or be thoughtful of. "I think it's fine, flaws and all. You should be proud of it because it's not perfect. Sometimes flaws are what make art better, and people learn to appreciate it."

His smile faded slowly. She was no longer referring to the crafts; Bucky was smart enough what she was talking about. He turned his head to look at her, but she stared straight ahead.

"Eva…"

She looked at him when he softly said her name, and the smile on her face fell. Her face still remained gentle and kind, her eyes holding care towards him.

"Your flaws, your past… They don't make me think any less of you."

His eyes darkened as he looked away from her; he stared straight ahead at the snowflakes, anywhere but her. The window took the brunt of his harsh gaze. It was something that still shocked him a little; Eva always seemed to amaze him.

"But it changes a lot, though," he muttered, more to himself than to her. Eva could still hear him speak.

She let her shoulders rise and fall. "It does. I won't deny that or try to sugar-coat it. It… It does change some things."

"Then why did you come here?"

He heard her sigh, and she did not answer. The silence had never been so deafening, and for a moment, Bucky wondered if _Eva_ knew the reason for coming here. She was a rational, sane person. He couldn't piece her motives and the way she generally was together.

"I came here because I care about you," she finally said, and his heart jumped at the suddenness of her breaking the silence. " _A lot_."

It should have made him feel better; somehow, it didn't do much to his self esteem.

Eva sighed again. "It's strange. Reading about you… It's hard to wrap my brain around it. I'm not going to beat around the bush. I was surprised, probably more shocked, even. This stuff doesn't just happen to… to your average person. I mean, reading history… _your history_ , from a book is something that happens on TV. It's like that movie _The Covenant_ , you know? Like when that girl just looks through the histories of those witch families and suddenly all the information makes sense as to why her friend is suddenly cursed with those spiders… It was like me coming across that history and finding you in there, and suddenly it just sort of fits together in the strange way, even if some of the pieces are still missing..."

Bucky didn't really know if her argument was valid or not. He wasn't exactly sure of what movie she was talking about or how it was relevant. He could see her point, though.

"And it _scared_ me, Bucky. Just when I thought something bad must have happened to you in the past, your history suddenly pushes me off the tracks and I suddenly don't know what to think. I was scared-I'm _still_ scared- because my feeble mind doesn't understand how this," she waved to him. "Is possible. It changes so much. I should be scared. I should be calling the cops or some scientists to figure this out…"

She swallowed, running a hand through her hair; the ends of it stuck up in odd angles, and he watched her smooth it down. A frown was present on her face, and his stomach sank.

"I don't know much about you," Eva said quietly. "I really don't. I've never asked you about your life or your past. I don't really know _why_ I haven't. You know me and my story, but I've never asked for yours. Maybe it's because I don't really care much for the past; I always focus on the present. I was thinking the other day… I feel like I've known you for a long time, that we haven't just met in the Fall…And the only things I really know about you is that you like pastries and you have…" Her eyes briefly glanced at the metal fingers that peeked from the end of his sleeve. Goosebumps erupted over his skin. "...And now… there's this blinding detail that seems to shine through my overall knowledge of you, and it sort of freaks me out, yet..."

Bucky watched her trail off and stare out the window, her brows furrowed together. A smile formed and she closed her eyes, snorting softly as she shook her head.

"Yet I don't really care for some odd reason." She opened her eyes to look up at him. Bucky was taken aback with a sense of bewilderment. "You must think I'm insane."

He did. She had to be out of her mind. He wondered if she was ill; any normal person would've called the cops, or maybe the government, after his stunt with the textbook.

He crossed his arms and looked down at his feet, swiping his tongue over his teeth as he thought. There must have been something he could say to her, but he couldn't think of anything meaningful. Bucky was at a loss. They were quiet for some time, and all he wanted was to just lie down with a wet towel over his face.

"Bucky?"

He looked up to find her eyes locked onto his face. "Hm?"

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed. There was hesitation in the way she held herself as if she were trying to battle over what she wanted to say. "What happened to you?"

He blanched. His skin erupted in goosebumps, and he felt something inside of him retreat and lock itself away. His courage, his sanity… one of those important little things that helped him keep his head on straight. He wanted to be cold. He wanted to hide behind that stoic façade; no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't emerge and take its place over his face.

A snowflake floated down from the sky, sticking to the other side of the window above his own craft. It didn't melt away like the others, at least not as quickly. He watched it melt down, and his eyes closed briefly, thinking off all the snow around him.

"I should have died."

She didn't say anything. There was no widening of the eyes, no paling of her features. Nothing could let him in.

"I wasn't supposed to survive, but I did," he gritted his teeth, a sudden harshness coating his breath. "A second chance that only deconstructed who I was, made me stronger and faster in the worst ways possible. I did things that I didn't think twice about. Things that I were told were _good_."

He heard her sniff quietly. It took most of his will to not glance at her. He didn't want to see how she stared at him with those big eyes, with pity or fear. His skin grew hot and the urge to storm outside to cool down was difficult to back away from. He was sure that he wouldn't even return to the apartment if he did. He'd wander around the city, hiding from everyone.

"Do you realize what you've read?" Bucky began to mutter, almost to himself. "That this…" He motioned to himself. "Is impossible and dangerous? A normal person would've run away."

"It doesn't matter if someone is or isn't normal," Eva touched his arm, and he flinched violently, as if she had touched him with a flame. She lowered her hand to her side, sighing. "Yes, this is _impossible_. But these last few years have been impossible. An alien invasion, a man that turns green… Bucky, your friend is… is _Steve Rogers_. But do you realize that all the people that have been affected by these events in the last few years have kept going? Kept living? People adapt to these strange situations because they have to. Do you think that after New York, people just decided to go underground and hide in fear? They didn't; they had to suck it up and accept the fact that Earth is suddenly not alone. And that's alright. So, why would I run away from you? You're not someone who I need to be afraid of."

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and felt his chest tighten. She was wrong, a horrible voice whispered to him, she was wrong about him. He was a monster; he could crush her throat in two seconds. She was so ignorant to what he was capable of. That horrible voice caused anger and fear to wash over him; he wanted to curl up in his bed and squeeze his eyes shut.

"Don't say that," his voice was almost inaudible. "Don't. You don't-"

"Bucky." She gently turned him to face her, and he didn't flinch that time; he forced himself to look up at her, and all he could see was sincerity. "I stick by what I said. And I also stick by I told you that night. Your past won't change how I look at you." She smiled softly, grasping his shoulders firmly. "You're always going to be Bucky to me. The big, tough guy who doesn't like to admit his love for brownies."

Within one blink, she was suddenly crushed into his chest, his arms around her small frame and his head buried into her shoulder. He struggled to breathe, and he shut his eyes, trying to calm himself. Why did she do this to him? Why did she make him feel human? It killed him. It absolutely tore him up, but made him want to hold her until he he couldn't breathe anymore.

Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, and Eva placed her head against his shoulder. He felt her sigh. They were quiet, and they held each other. It felt as if he were grasping on to her with every ounce of strength he had, and if he were to let go, then he'd surely crumble to a heap. An anchor, something to keep him grounded and from losing his damn mind.

"I don't know what to even say to you," he mumbled against her shoulder. "Other than you mean a lot to me."

"You don't have to say anything."

Bucky opened his eyes and was met with the paper snowflakes. His lips turned up in the softest of smiles.

"Am I going to meet Captain America?" He tried not to snort. The question was coming sooner or later.

* * *

Eva left after a few hours. His floor was, unfortunately, coated in a thin layer of glitter. If he sneezed, it'd all fly up into the air and coat other parts of the room. He shouldn't have allowed it into his home to begin with. It was a menace to mankind.

Apart from the glitter, there were some dozen or more snowflakes littered on the ground. After she had left, Bucky sat on the floor and tried to cut out the little crafts on his own. If he failed, at least he would face it within the privacy of his living room. Some of them looked alright, but they weren't the best things on the planet. They weren't as good as Eva's. Still he tried.

It was an odd sight to see. A grown man-an assassin, no less-sitting on the floor as he tried to make Christmas crafts. He could rip a man's beating heart of his chest with a learned skill, but for all the unknown reasons, he couldn't cut triangles.

With a sigh, he set down another snowflake beside him, his fingers cramping from the small scissors. He gathered all of the finished products into a heap beside him. There was a glare of disdain, and he huffed. Bucky rose to his feet, searching for the broom that Steve had left in his kitchen. The living room was swept clean, and he threw everything away except for the craft pile. The cat weaved herself around his legs, pawing every so often at his feeble snowflakes.

Bucky sighed, and he leaned against the broom with his hands resting under his chin. It had been a long day, both mentally and physically exhausting. He deserved a shower and sleep. For the first time, Bucky just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up for some time. Part of him did not care if the nightmares came. He'd let them, even if it meant just a few hours of rest.

He glanced at the window. Night had fallen, and the snow had ceased. The snowflakes Eva and he made were still taped to the window pane, miraculously not pulled down by Maya. Eva's glittered in the dim light of the room while his was still bare.

Bucky didn't have the heart to remove them. They'd probably stay there after Christmas, too.


	19. There is No Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love how this chapter turned out, and I'm sure you will all enjoy it too, he he he. Thanks for the reviews from the last chapter! I expect MANY MANY more for this one! Enjoy! :)

 

His medication bottle was knocked over.

Pills floated across the surface of the water in the toilet, scattered around the linoleum tile. Some landed in the bathtub by the force of his lack of control.

Bucky crouched on the ground, head in his hands as he stared with unseeing eyes at the floor. He hated this. He hated himself. He hated all those eyes that appeared every time he blinked. Those dreams of his were becoming much more lucid.

After swallowing a few breaths, Bucky reached up to hold onto the counter to pull himself to his feet. He leaned heavily against the sink, avoiding to glance at the mirror. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the cat brushed up against his legs, and he peered down when she was about to sniff the fallen pills.

He swooped her up sharply and set the cat on the counter. "No," he chided her gently. A meow was his response.

Bucky rubbed his eyes, bracing himself against the counter. A nightmare had turned him inside out, scaring him out of his wits. He knew that it wasn't real, that he was back in his own body, in his room where he was safe. It felt real, though. It still felt like his skin was sliced open, that the never-ending chill was still inside of him.

That brown eyes stared at him, glossy and drained of life.

The dreams were becoming much more vivid. It terrified him, and Bucky fumed as he seemed to feel his masculinity dwindle away with every minute of weakness. He was destruction itself; he wasn't to feel anything less than power and strength inside of him. Yet the longer he stood there, shaking, the more he seemed to feel lost and frightened inside his apartment. Sometimes Bucky wondered if he was no more than a child, not a skilled fighter.

He shut his eyes, leaning over to press his face against the counter. He held his breaths as he counted, slowly releasing it. His heart gradually slowed into a steady rhythm. It was taking longer for him to calm down, to breathe easily. There was too much strain on him, too many external things that made it difficult to think clearly. He felt pressure behind his eyes as he thought…

" _Those dreams of yours… do you think they're hindering your ability to perform during your missions?"_

_Bucky cocked his head, narrowing his eyes at the doctor. She waited patiently for him to answer, her pen tapping the surface of her composition. He wondered how much of his information was scribbled within the pages._

" _I think I'm fine," Bucky said. "They don't affect me."_

" _By your descriptions of their severity and frequency, I can only assume that they affect you greatly. You have gained an incredible anxiety due to them."_

" _I said I'm fine."_

_She sighed, removing her reading glasses; small indentations were pressed into the bridge of her nose. He wondered how long she'd been reading his progress reports during the weeks._

" _You can't lie to yourself, Sergeant," she said, frowning. His stomach dropped a fraction when she spoke again. "Captain Rogers told me what had happened on your missions."_

_He responded by gritting his teeth and looking past her head at the wall._

" _What Hydra has subjected you to," she leaned forward, trying to reach him somehow. "Has left you vulnerable to triggers. Any facility you come across... people, files, or whatever… your mind reacts badly to it. Those dreams are only a by-product of your experiences. Being apart of these missions subjects you to a new level of stress that ends in flashbacks or disillusions."_

_She sat back, staring at him and waiting for Bucky to make eye contact with her. He made no reaction, didn't even acknowledge her. She sighed once more._

" _Captain Rogers has requested that you sit aside the next few missions."_

_This time he snapped his eyes to her. "I'm fine."_

" _What about your anxiety? It seems to have worsened."_

_Bucky swallowed. He had been going through a lot. He already had the stress of compromising his friendship with Eva with his identity, and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s trust that he was sane. He didn't understand what they seemed to expect from him. He was a wreck._

" _Those missions give me purpose. I'm trying to right those wrongs. If that gets taken away from me..."_

_He trailed off, and he watched her scribble notes into her composition. She shut it, setting it aside on a small table before looking at him. For a therapist, she wasn't good at masking her emotions. Worry clouded her eyes._

" _James," the doctor said. "You need to realize that there are some negative effects of these activities. There are many things that can give you purpose."_

_He slumped in his chair. "What purpose?"_

A urgent vibrate startled him. He turned towards the source, his bedroom, and left the bathroom. He flipped over the covers, feeling around the mattress until he found the phone lying face down near the foot of the bed. He didn't recall leaving it there.

He answered it without taking a glance, lowering himself to sit on the floor. "Hello?"

"Merry Christmas!" He pulled back from the force of Eva's volume, frowning at the phone. He placed it back on his ear.

"What?"

There was silence on the other side, and then a faint giggle began to fill his ear. "Don't tell me you've forgotten."

He was quiet for a moment as he tried to process what was happening. His mind still reeled from his horrible sleep. A light flashed in his mind. "Oh… Christmas." Bucky paused. "Isn't it tomorrow?"

"I know." There was a smile in her voice. "But I just wanted to tell you in case I didn't have any time."

"Oh," he said again. "Well… Merry Christmas to you, too."

The silence had returned; the soft white noise on the other end disturbed him. It was too much like the sound in his mind moments before in the bathroom.

"What's wrong?"

He sighed in response. This needed to stop.

"Are you okay, Bucky?" She asked him quietly.

He swallowed. "I'm okay. Just a rough night. Don't worry."

"Don't try to fool me," she chided him. "I can smell bullshit even through a phone. What's wrong? Do you need me to come?"

His heart swelled in pain. Unreal. She was always surprising him in many ways, and it absolutely shocked and killed him piece by piece.

"No, I'm fine," he said quickly. "It really was a rough night. Sleep doesn't come easy."

She hummed in response. "Maybe you should try and rest."

"It's fine, it's fine. I'll be alright after I drink something."

"I hope so," she said. "I'd rather you not walk into a wall."

A chuckle escaped, and he lifted himself back up to his feet. "I'm not that careless," he said as he returned to the bathroom. He bent down to sweep the pills into a pile with his hand.

"That's what I would expect from an old man, though."

"Leave my age out of this. I don't need to be insulted in the morning."

She laughed on the other end as he flushed the medication down the toilet. He wondered if it was alright to do that; he assumed it was. He suddenly felt exposed as he watched the tablets disappear. He needed a new prescription desperately. His anxiety was on the peak of rising until he heard Eva's soothing voice.

"Are you doing anything for Christmas?" She asked. He sighed internally, glad for the change in thoughts.

"I've been invited to a party."

Steve had hesitated, both from trying not to upset him and something else that he seemed to miss, when he asked Bucky, still unsure if he was still angry at him for sending him home. The anger had been gone after some time; he found no point in it. Steve meant well. If something happened to Bucky, Steve would be wracked with a guilt over something that he wasn't even responsible for.

And so when he asked his friend to accompany him to Stark's Christmas party so he wouldn't lose his mind over the billionaire's cheek, he said he'd think about it. His answer had given Steve some hope, as small as it was.

"Captain America's party?"

He smirked, an eye roll following. "No."

"Is it one of the Avengers?"

"Maybe." Eva couldn't help her curiosity. She reminded Bucky of a little girl, wanting to know everything about his time period and the little details about Steve and who he knew. Eva knew the boundaries, though; she knew that there were things that she couldn't pry into. The work for S.H.I.E.L.D. was on that list. She couldn't help but ask, however, about his interactions with the Avengers.

"Are you going?"

"I don't know."

She laughed. "Well, try to have fun at least. You should spend time with your friends. After all your... " she trailed off, and he knew what she meant.

"My family is dead," Bucky sighed. "Don't feel bad about bringing them up. It's better this way; if by some miracle they lived, I'd rather they not see me this way."

His words rang for a moment, and he felt guilty, leaving her in a position where she couldn't formulate a response. He jumped back in, changing the subject. It was getting easier with her, easier to talk than with other people.

"Got plans for tonight?" He sat on the edge of the bathtub.

"Yeah," the cheer picked up in her voice, going a few octaves higher as she spoke. The tone suddenly unnerved him for a moment, but he listened as she relayed what she'd be doing. "I'll be seeing my brother in the afternoon before he and his family fly out to New York to see his in-laws. I'll stay back and go down to the shelter and help out till nine tonight. It's nice to be busy."

He frowned. "Why aren't you going with your brother?"

He imagined her shrugging. "I turned down his offer some time ago. I'd rather he spend time with his wife. They don't get much time together, and the kids need to see their grandparents. It be kind of pointless to go, isn't it?" She ended with a slight chuckle.

"I guess…" He sighed, scratching his neck. "Will you be okay?"

"I'll fine," she said. She sounded almost too upbeat, and Bucky's stomach churned. "Go to that party, go have fun, alright? Don't worry about me. I'll be really busy to actually have time for anything else."

"Are you sure?"

"I am." There was silence before she sighed quietly. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Remember, I have your gift still, so stop by my place sometime to get it. I want to see your face when you open it."

He smiled softly. "I will."

They said their goodbyes, and he placed his phone in his pocket. Bucky rubbed his eyes, blowing out a breath he'd been holding. It didn't feel right, he thought. It didn't feel right to hear that she'd be by herself.

* * *

Eva set her phone down on the counter. She stared at it for a few moments, listening to the dripping of the coffee machine. She hoped he was alright; Bucky seemed distant, more frazzled than he usually was. There was always something that he masked when she looked at him, and yet he still gave her a bright smile when he saw her.

She wondered if it was genuinely for her or if whatever kept him hurting at night had made it forced. Eva wasn't born yesterday. Everytime she saw him, his skin looked paler, his eyes were more sunken in. He was troubled. Eva had always wondered if he slept well at night. Or if he even slept at all.

Those things that kept him up at night… Did she really want to know?

She was always curious, and with the air cleared about him, Eva's curiosity grew even more. She knew that there was more to this than falling off a train and miraculously kept alive throughout the decades; yet she didn't pry. The past week or so had left him quiet, much more so than he usually was. If it was her fault, then she wanted to tell him she was sorry, that he didn't have to tell her anything he didn't want to.

Maybe she cared for him too much, she thought.

She got dressed afterwards, putting on her boots and coat. She left Archie a bowl of food and water before leaving her apartment, presents for her brother and his family in her arms. The streets were just as busy, perhaps even busier because of the holidays. The bus was crowded, people holding gifts or children as they hopped off or on every so often.

Everyone just wanted to get somewhere warm, or to be home for Christmas. To be with the people that loved them.

Eva had some people that loved her, and she loved them. She wanted to be by herself, though. David and Maggie needed some time together, away from all the drama that Eva seemed to attract into family gatherings.

She hoped that Bucky had people that loved him. Steve, she assumed, did. It was still strange for her to acknowledge that Bucky had close ties with the hero. Anyhow, she hoped that Bucky had support, that there were people that cared for him.

Did he care for her as much as she did him?

Eva got off her stop, walking a few blocks before stopping at a town home. It was a nice place; stucco shingles and dark wood panels along the windows and front door. A wreath hung on the front, accompanied by lights surrounding the door. It radiated warmth and comfort, something that she liked most about Christmas at this home.

The front door opened before she even got to the first step, and a little boy came rushing out.

"Auntie Evie!"

She grinned, setting the presents on the ground before bending down to scoop him into her arms. "Monkey!"

Eva glanced up to see her sister-in-law, Maggie, waiting by the door with a smile. Their daughter was tucked into her side, away from the cold. "Hey, Mags."

Her nephew gripped her hand as she juggled the presents in one arm, going up the few steps to the townhome.

"Charlie was waiting by the window for you," she said as she shut the door after Eva entered the house. "Wanted to surprise you."

"Were you surprised?" He asked his aunt, wriggling out of her gasp and doing circles around her as she walked into the living room.

"Of course!" She said. "How could I not be?"

"Are you being sarcastic with my son?" Eva turned to see her brother enter the living room through the kitchen.

"I would never," she laughed. "I'm always genuine."

"Sure," David narrowed his eyes.

Eva rolled hers, greeting him with a hug and kiss on the cheek. "When are you all leaving?"

"Later in the evening. I still wish you were coming, you know."

Eva shot him a look. Charlie tugged on his aunt's coat, pointing up to the wrapped gifts. "Are those all mine?"

"One of them is." Eva walked over to the Christmas tree by the window, placing them underneath.

" _After_ lunch, Char," his father chided him, resulting in a pouting boy.

The cooing in the kitchen caught Eva's attention, and she beelined around the furniture and into the room. An aroma of garlic and sage tickled her nose, warming her up; however, she paid more attention to the toddler in the high chair.

"I haven't greeted you yet, have I?" Eva cooed to Cara, who squealed and raised her arms up. "Merry Christmas!"

Eva lifted her into her arms, cuddling her and showering with little kisses as high-pitched giggles filled the kitchen. Oh, how she loved small children.

"If only my husband was that excited about seeing me," Maggie laughed from the sink, washing some carrots.

"I _am_ excited to see you," David said as he lead Charlie by the hand. Maggie rolled her eyes with a grin.

Eva sat Cara on her lap as she took a seat at the kitchen table. She bounced Cara on her thigh, watching her brother and his wife work around the kitchen. Charlie followed them around like a little duckling. A smile crept onto her face.

The small family ate, retiring into the living room before Eva had to leave for the shelter and her brother to the airport. Cara sat on the floor playing with the new toy phone Eva bought her, while David helped Charlie assemble his new lego set.

The two women sat on the couch, watching the three mess around on the floor. Eva smiled softly. One day, she told herself, she'd have a family like David's. A little girl, a little boy… She hoped for kids after she got settled with her degree. She needed a stable income more than anything. That was her worry; stability.

How could she even have kids, a family, when she couldn't even have a sense of structure inside of her? Not to mention if she could handle a relationship and potential soul mate. Her last boyfriend was a bust, a real ass. If he couldn't even love her, then how could he love his kids?

_No sperm banks_ , Eva grimaced, _not that._

Even though that was a total disaster, she thought, it didn't stop her from believing that there were decent people in the world. There were still people that could make her happy. And there were people who made her happy. She had her family, she had some friends who cared for her, she had Bucky…

Yeah. She had Bucky.

"You in there?" Maggie nudged her with her foot.

"Hm?"

"You were gone," Maggie smirked. "What were you thinking about?"

Eva leaned into the cushions, propping her head up with her arm. "Life."

Her sister-in-law arched a perfect brow. Her bright eyes glowed against the light filtering through the window. Eva sometimes envied Maggie. She was naturally beautiful; big blue doe eyes, fiery hair with a curl never out of place, and dimples. She was like a doll. It was too bad that the children didn't inherit her hair; that was all David. At least they had their mother's eyes. They'd grow up to be beautiful like her. Eva wanted children to have her hair, but she hoped they'd have their father's eyes or smile. She wasn't very fond of how her cheeks rose, annihilating her eyes from existence. She had always had chipmunk cheeks.

"Or you going to elaborate, or will I have to drag it out of you?"

Eva shrugged. "If you really want to know, I was thinking about kids."

"Kids?"

"Yeah…" Eva smiled softly, watching Cara fall on her side as David nudged her gently. The little girl erupted into a fit of giggles. "They're great. They're little versions of you, and you watch them grow and be someone amazing."

Maggie hummed, nodding. "It _is_ amazing. Sometimes I look at them, and I think to myself, 'Wow, I _did_ that.'"

"Don't you mean 'we'?"

"Okay… _we_. But still. It's great, but sometimes you get scared. You wonder if you're a good parent or if everything you do is okay. You wonder if _they'll_ be okay when you're not there, if they're always happy. You don't want to leave them, and yet you wonder if there may come a day where something happens to either myself or David, what will happen to the kids…"

"And yet," Maggie smiled. "You are always swelling with this overwhelming amount of pride. I look at them, and I know that they'll go off and do something great with their lives. They'll be doctors or teachers, maybe a musician. No matter what they do, a silly little drawing or saying 'I love you'... they are your entire world."

Eva stared at her for a moment, watching Maggie glow as she spoke and stare at her children with adoration.

"Are you pregnant again?" Eva asked.

David's head snapped up so quickly, Eva almost believed he had whiplash. " _What_?"

Maggie's face burned brightly. "What? No!" She turned to her husband who gaped. "No! I am _not_ pregnant. We are _not_ having anymore!"

Eva snorted, which then turned into a chuckle as she watched the two parents calm down from a potential heart attack.

"What was that about children being your world?" Eva smirked. A pillow was thrown at her head.

"Shut up," Maggie said. "My body has rearranged itself twice to push them out. It's not doing it again. End of story."

Eva laughed again, wiping her eyes.

It wasn't until fifteen minutes later, they were all standing by the front door, saying their goodbyes. Eva kissed her nephew and niece on the cheek, promising to come and spend New Year's Eve with them.

"Do you want me to drive you?" David asked her.

"No," she shook her head. "I'll be okay, really. Don't worry. Bus never killed anyone."

David grimaced. He had never liked the thought of public transportation, especially with Eva knowing zero defense and living in a not-so well off neighborhood.

"Well," he wrapped his arms around her. "Merry Christmas, Evie. I'll call you when we get there tonight."

"Merry Christmas, Davie," she grinned, patting his back before moving on to hug Maggie.

"Take care of yourself, Eva," Maggie said. "Don't get into too much trouble."

Eva pulled away with a eye roll. "When do I ever?"

Her sister-in-law smiled. "And hey, you'll get those kids one day."

"Education first," Eva said. "Brains before boys."

Maggie sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving a comforting squeeze. "It's okay to have a relationship, you know." Eva frowned. "Not that face, okay? I'm being serious. You can have a boyfriend _and_ be in school. You're not forbidden from that. Just… I want you to be happy."

"I _am_ happy," she insisted, and she flashed her a quick smile. "I really am. No need to worry."

"Are you?"

"Yeah. I'll be okay."

* * *

"When are we going?"

"Now," Steve said, fiddling with his tie. Bucky sat at the kitchen table in his button down and slacks. "Nat said she'll meet us there. Sam got there early, said the place is already swinging with people."

" _Wonderful_ ," he grimaced.

After some nagging and thought, Bucky agreed to accompany the blond. It wasn't the best decision in the world, but it might do him some good. He put on the nicest thing he had, plus a glove. Despite the fact there were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who already knew about him, he couldn't stand the thought of shocking others.

"Let's go," Steve nudged him, pulling his friend out of his daze. "It's nearly eight thirty."

Bucky nodded, and they both left Steve's place. "Go on ahead. I need to grab my coat."

He moved through his own apartment, the cat paying him no mind as she napped on the couch. Bucky looked through his closet. The coat was strewn around somewhere in the space, and his fingers brushed against a smooth surface. He pulled it out from beneath some clothes, a small box wrapped in gold paper.

_Oh,_ he thought. He'd nearly forgotten about Eva's present. He had it ordered from the internet some time ago. He didn't have the guts to go into the mall by himself.

He looked down at it, and without another thought, shoved it into his front pocket. Bucky found his coat and locked the door behind him. Steve was in front of the building, waiting in the car. The clouds were heavy and low, threatening to snow. He wished for a clear sky for once.

The car came to life, and they took off down the road. Bucky sat there, stomach twisting as he thought of all the people who'd be there. He wasn't overly fond of Iron Man, nor was he amicable with Agent Hill.

He only prayed that it wouldn't be a shit show. He'd enough of that in the last month. He wanted to stay home and watch whatever seemed interesting to him, or read. Or stare at the ceiling for whoever knows how long. Anything that wouldn't result in him caving inside.

Bucky leaned his head against the window, watching the city lights that sped by. He felt stuck. He'd still feel alone at the party, even if Steve stuck by him to make sure he didn't hide behind a curtain. He didn't want to feel those eyes on him, pooled with pity or fear.

Maybe he should've asked Eva, he thought. It'd be bearable if she went with him. He glanced at Steve, then frowned. Or maybe not. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to have those two in the same room together. It wasn't as if she'd freak out or anything.

Maybe it was the thought that he'd blend into the room, and she'd pay attention to Captain America. He wouldn't exist anymore.

He suppressed a sigh. He didn't want Steve looking over to see if he was alright.

Bucky wondered if Eva was alright. He didn't usually worry about her, but he didn't like the underlying tone in her voice. It irked him. It sent chills down his spine, and he knew that perhaps that false cheer-which he had realized a few moments after they had hung up-was to keep him from worrying for her.

_She's going to be alone_ , he thought.

And he couldn't think clearly after that thought. He didn't want her feeling miserable like he would in a few moments. She was supposed to be happy. She was always so cheerful around him and made people smile. She wasn't supposed to force a smile or fake cheer. He didn't want that from her.

"Turn around."

"What?" Steve snapped his head over.

Bucky sat up, pointing his thumb back. "I need to be somewhere else."

"But the party-"

"I already have an engagement," Bucky said. He flashed his friend a very brief smile. "There's something that's more important to me. Besides, you'll have Wilson and Romanoff."

Steve made a u-turn at the traffic light, shooting him a look of worry. "Do I need to be concerned?"

"No, just keep driving. I'll explain later."

"You can explain now."

" _Later_. Just drive."

It didn't take them long to stop outside of her apartment. Bucky sat there silently, Steve tense beside him. He didn't realize that he started to shake a little. He didn't know why that was happening to him. There was nothing dangerous happening, he hadn't had a flashback. There was no explanation.

Steve bore his eyes into Bucky's side, frowning. He glanced through the passenger window at the building. It only took him a few seconds for it to dawn on him. Steve didn't expect her to live in a neighborhood like this, however; he imagined that Bucky had been going to a nice house. He felt shame coat his neck. He shouldn't be the one to judge. After all, he and Bucky grew up in poverty and the Depression, no less.

The ice broke when Steve nudged him. "I expect details and a pizza after this."

Bucky shot him a look before shaking his head, releasing his seatbelt. "Thank you."

Steve nodded to him, and he took off down the road after the door was shut. Bucky stared up at the building, looking for the light of her living room. It was dark. He sighed. Either she was asleep or she wasn't home. He pulled out his phone to check the time. It was a bit past nine.

Bucky walked up to the front door of the apartments, and he rang for her door. It buzzed, but there was no answer. He swore under his breath. If she was asleep, he didn't want to piss her off or intrude again. He didn't want to worry her like that again.

He was about to text Steve to come back after his anxiety began to creep up his back, and then he heard her.

"What are you doing here?"

Eva cocked her head to the side, exhausted from her walk and cold. She had a large brown stain on the front of her sweater.

Bucky couldn't help himself. "What is that?"

Eva glanced down before locking eyes with him. "Gravy."

Bucky's brows rose in amusement. He snorted, and she laughed quietly, avoiding his eyes as her cheeks reddened. When the laughter died down, she stepped up beside him, her keys jingling as she unlocked the door. She didn't say anything to him as she entered the building, but he knew that he was allowed to follow her.

It was colder than normal inside her apartment, and Eva turned the thermostat up. She threw her coat onto the couch along with her purse. "Wait here," she said, turning to her bedroom.

Bucky wandered over to the window where the Christmas tree was positioned. He hadn't been over in since the incident. She had done a good job of decorating, a little tinsel here and there. A small ornament on every branch. The lights lit up the entire room. Anyone who glanced at the tree knew that it was hers just by her touch.

Archie slept soundly in the corner, sniffing every so often. He removed his coat, setting it down by the piano bench. His anxiety still lingered, and he breathed deeply, looking out the window. A car passed by, its light shining into the room.

"You look nice."

Eva changed into a long sweater and leggings, but the exhaustion was still on her face.

"It was for the party," he said.

"You didn't go?" Eva frowned.

He shook his head. "I think there are more important things than a party."

Eva crossed the room, leaning against the window next to him. "Like?"

He swallowed thickly, looking down towards the street. He watched a man and woman disappear into a building, and a bus had turned the corner. "You. I think you're more important."

Eva chewed on her lip, trying to see what was hidden his eyes, but she couldn't find anything. "Why did you come here, Bucky?"

She touched his arm, and he looked down at her. His heart hammered when she touched him, and he tried to breathe evenly. "No one should spend Christmas alone."

He turned back to look outside, but he still managed to catch the stunned look in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking at him as a soft smile formed. They were silent as they stood there. Both didn't know what to say, or if there really was _anything_ to say.

Bucky exhaled slowly, shutting his eyes briefly. He put his weight on of his legs, and he felt the box in his pocket shift. He reached down into his pocket and pulled it out.

"I was going to give this to you later," he said quietly. "But I think it's only appropriate that you have it now."

Eva's eyes widened, gingerly taking it into her hands. "You didn't have-"

"I had to," Bucky said, avoiding her eyes. His heart thudded heavily and a heat washed up his neck. What was wrong with him? He wondered. He urged his body to relax.

She shook head, smiling. She peeled the gold wrapping paper away, setting it on the window sill. A white box was now in her hands, and she lifted the cap. She gaped as the light hit what was inside, tiny stones twinkling at her.

"Bucky…"

"Do you like it?" He asked quickly, his nerves getting a hold of him.

She nodded, a warm smile reaching her eyes. "I do. I really do, I just… _wow_. Thank you."

Her finger traced the bracelet that was inside, sitting on a small cushion. One charm was attached.

"A snowflake?" She glanced up at him.

He smiled. "Take it as whatever you will."

She laughed, looking back down. Each arm of the flake had a small stone, and whenever it hit the light, it would shine up into her eyes.

"It's beautiful," she shook her head. "I can't thank you enough…"

"You deserve something nice."

She looked up at him with sincerity. "Regardless, you've given me probably the nicest gift, but I think you actually _being_ here with me is more than I can ever ask for, Bucky."

It was one of these times when Bucky was very glad about his instincts, that it could do some good instead of leading to bad. He brought his hands up, taking the small box out of her hand to set aside before taking the bracelet. He carefully clasped it around her wrist, and they both admired how it looked.

She was glowing brighter than the dim light above them, and Bucky smiled softly at her. He was glad she liked it; it made him happy inside to see the warmth swirling around her brown eyes and brighten every second. There was nothing on this earth that he wanted more than to see her looking at him like that, with such happiness.

"Thank you, Bucky," she thanked him again, her voice soft.

She leaned up on her toes, the floorboard creaking below their feet, and pressed her lips softly against his cheek, close to his own lips. Close enough for him to understand the faintest hint. His skin warmed at the single action, and a shiver ran down his spine, sending a shock to his fingertips and toes. He welcomed it.

When Eva slowly pulled away, he could still feel the gentle touch on his cheek, wishing that she hadn't left. And so he turned his head and leaned down to kiss her. He heard the sharp intake of air as he closed his eyes, and the stillness against his lips.

And then she kissed him back, feeling the flutter of her eyelashes against his cheeks, and his chest exploded with gold and sparks. The scent of her hair filled his nose, and he tasted the Christmas cookies on her lips. He smiled, and she did, too, against his lips, both molding perfectly against each other. There was a softness to them that he had only imagined, compared to the dryness to his own lips. It was still perfect, he thought.

"There's no mistletoe…" He heard her breathe, and he felt her lips smile against his.

"I don't care," he said, and he softly kissed her again and again.

His head spun, and it seemed all too new for him, even if he had done the same decades ago. Though they were hesitant kisses, part of him knew what to do. He knew how to be gentle, and that's all he wanted to be for her. Bucky's hands rested against her arms, holding her carefully, as if she was made of glass. He felt her hand touch his jaw, and the other that held her gift against his chest. It brought only the warmest of feelings to him, and his cheeks heated up.

This was better than anything his mind could ever conjure up.

Bucky pulled away reluctantly, kissing her one last time, his forehead resting against hers. He listened to her lightly sigh, and he opened his eyes to find hers staring right back. She smiled softly, and Bucky wondered when she had ever looked like that. His eyes trailed down to her lips, and on their way to being swollen. His stomach flipped as he thought, _Did I do that?_

Their eyes glowed in the soft, colorful light of her Christmas tree. Beside them, it had began to snow; light flakes fell from above and melted against the window.

For the first time, Bucky did not mind the snow.

Eva brought her arms up around his shoulders in a tight hug, as Bucky responded by pressing his hands against her back.

"Merry Christmas," he told her quietly, closing his eyes as felt everything inside him fall into place. A quiet peace that was long overdue.

"Merry Christmas, Bucky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg it has FINALLY happened! Yay! Cliche, but I enjoyed writing it. Reviews are very VERY appreciated!


	20. Avalanche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I am so, so, so, SOOO sorry that it's taken me so long to update. I decided to start a summer semester at college as well as picking up a job. That, and I had intense writer's block. Thank you so much for bearing with me and being patient. I would never abandon this story and I love you all for getting a kick out of it. So thank you all, love you, and leave a review! Enjoy <3

There were cyclones of horror that Bucky faced on his own. It seemed that they were too intense for anyone else to bear, Bucky believed; it was only fitting that someone, somewhere had placed that on his shoulders. Someone would consider him brave. He only thought of weakness. It made his skin cold and lungs shrivel with every breath, every blink revealing glimpses of things, _bad_ things that he'd done.

New memories began to resurface. More than there was after remembering his military serial number. It clawed at his skull, almost the way one would drag their nails across a blackboard. He abhorred the feeling, bringing his fists to his ears to block out the screams. The hairs rose on his body, the veins pulsating within his eyes as he stared up, unseeing.

He'd see men and women, murdered out of cold blood. Some had clenched their eyes shut as they bled to death, to avoid the lifeless eyes of a killer from being their very last memory. Others kept their eyes wide-open, staring right into his very soul-or lack of it, while it was shut away- as the very last thing they saw before they slipped away was the monster himself. Not a single ounce of feeling or remorse in those cold blues. Those eyes that had seen darkness, eyes that held all evidence as the victims could no longer see him return to his keepers.

There was no warmth that could erase all those horrors inside that warped mind of his. No matter how much it eased him, it did not chase away the disease within. Even as he watched Eva push her hair behind her ear as she looked up for the signs around the genres, it could not contain whatever was getting worse inside of him.

So, he focused on her. His eyes focused on the two freckles on her right little finger. Her cheeks were rosier then they usually were, due to the low heat inside the library. The top floor was colder than the bottom. The thick sweater she wore didn't do much to prevent the quiet chattering of her teeth. Bucky didn't feel it as much. It wasn't like the cryo-chamber.

There was grace in every movement she made. The way she reached up on her toes to place a book on a shelf, the bracelet twinkling on her slender wrist, or the way she walked down the aisles with Bucky at her heels. He watched her blink, and it seemed as if time ran slowly, her long eyelashes slowly touching the bottom ones. Every movement she made almost felt like he was underwater. His chest did not hurt from the pressure, or from the lack of air. She was delicate like the flowers that blew in the wind, or the seaweed being brushed side to side from gentle waves. She was the Earth herself, and Bucky was fascinated.

Bucky watched her dark eyes look up to the top shelf, flickering back and forth. There were flecks of a lighter brown in her irises, but her eyes were much too dark for any normal person to notice. He wasn't normal. He noticed them. Did the other men that she may have kissed see her eyes the way he did? Maybe someone else would be able to if they looked close enough. He did. He had that chance to look closely as snow fell outside her apartment. He saw them more clearly when he closed his eyes, and when they opened, the lighter flecks were brighter than he thought possible.

Chills ran down his neck and back, and he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply as he tried to ease his heartbeat back down to where it once was. She did things to him, things that he didn't think possible. Bucky was told of a girl that ignited those feelings inside of him a very long time ago, when he used to be himself, but he couldn't remember her, couldn't remember what it was like to feel all of that. He thought those feelings were all gone, but when he opened his eyes again to find her walking a few paces down ahead of him, he realized that the fire was being lit inside. It could grow if he gave it a chance to.

He wanted to see how high the flame could rise.

Eva said something. He focused on the sound of her voice, but it didn't come through. He didn't understand the words that hit his ears.

"What?" He said, as if he had just woken up from a long sleep.

She smiled, shaking her head as she replaced a book back onto a shelf of identical copies.

"The other librarians don't like you very much," Eva said.

Bucky followed her as she turned a corner. A small smirk formed; they seemed to hate everyone.

"So?"

Eva stopped to glance at the sign taped to the bookcase; the original metal one fell off sometime ago, and there was no care from anyone to fix it. She continued down the hall, and Bucky waited for her to answer.

Eva placed the small stack of books in her arms on a nearby cart at a corner of two walls. "I just think it's rather funny." Bucky didn't reply. He only rolled his eyes. "They don't like people who become regulars."

Bucky frowned. "I don't understand."

She shrugged. "I don't either. Old, conservative women don't tend to make too much sense anyway."

_Conservative_. He didn't like that word. It made something dull and dark manifest inside his mind when several things came to mind. Old values, old ways of thought. Values that don't belong, that hurt others…

He felt Eva touch his arm, and he blinked, returning back. "You spaced, Bucky. Are you okay?"

He nodded. Bucky fell out of his focus much too often now. It scared him. The smallest things sent him on trails of thought that distorted his perceptions, leaving him in a fugue. There was a lack of control inside of him, and he wanted nothing more than to guzzle down the medications he was given. If only he had any left.

Bucky focused on Eva's face. He needed an anchor, no matter what it was, and he felt that restless part of him settle down. The concern in her face slowly melted away as he returned to himself. Whatever "himself" was. The warmth of her eyes eased him, and he didn't catch himself closing the space between them. His lips pressed down on hers, and he breathed deeply as he shut his eyes. His hair fell from behind his ears and shielded their faces, and he felt her fingers ghost against his throat.

He apologized against her lips for kissing her, and she smiled softly. "We've done this before."

Eva slowly pulled away from him, and he wanted her to come back, to make him stop thinking. It was a sudden need, and Bucky scared himself. He didn't want to scare her either. She put her hands around his face, and Bucky flicked his gaze down to hers.

"But kissing me doesn't answer my question," she said, pulling him with her as she hid them from sight of the others in the library. The corner was unused, and the layers of dust on the books were thick.

He smiled gently, shaking his head. "I'm okay."

Eva didn't smile back. "I know that's not true."

He swallowed thickly, wanting to pull away from her grasp and cave into himself. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to stand there with her and forget everything, pretend like nothing was eating away at the little sanity he had.

"Bucky," she spoke gently. "You can't smile and pretend you're okay. You don't have to do everything by yourself."

"You can't help me when you don't know what to fix."

"Then let me in."

He wanted to. Very desperately, in fact. He wanted to let her in; it was only a matter of bravery and the willingness to do so.

Bucky wanted to growl for how self deprecating he was.

There was a vibration in his jacket pocket that interrupted them. Bucky frowned as Eva released him, watching as he pulled out his phone. Steve's number popped up and was answered. Bucky put the phone to his ear as he turned away and walked a few a paces from Eva

"Come to headquarters," Steve said before Bucky could say anything. His stomach dropped, and the hairs on his neck rose. His senses kicked into gear. "Sam is on his way to get you."

"What's happened?"

The tone of Steve's voice alerted Bucky's senses. Business, forthright, the tone of a captain. The mere feeling of anxiety was numbed away as he kicked into the embodiment of a soldier. There was something Bucky didn't like about Steve's few words to him. He peered over his shoulder; Eva was shuffling the books, though there wasn't anything wrong with their order in the first place. She was worried. He wasn't blind. It may have been when we had gone rigid. His throat bobbed as swallowed a nonexistent lump. Flashes of the Triskelion came to mind, and wondered where she had been during that time. Did his body movement somehow insinuate another national disaster, which had been a part of his own hands.

"I need you clear headed, alright?" Was Steve's response. There was a heavy pause, and Bucky imagined Steve taking in a deep breath and tightening his jaw. "Verdona won't speak to anyone but you."

A cold feeling settled over him. "What for?"

"We don't know. We'll have Hill try again with him. I'll update you when you get here and brief you."

Steve hung up with a quick goodbye, and Bucky stuffed his phone away, bringing his other balled up hand to his face. He pressed the cool metal to his forehead, as if it would relieve the pressure building up. His instincts were arguing with him, and the logic his conscious was spewing clashed with them. He could only think of the worse, of what would be said, of what he could possibly do.

A gentle pressure against arm made the tension in his body melt away a bit. Bucky rested his left hand over Eva's.

"Your job?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

Understanding was the only thing he could find in her eyes when he turned to face her fully. "I'll see you later then."

"Is that it?"

A brow perked up as she smirked a bit. "Is what it?"

"You've never asked me what I do, what my job is-"

She slapped his shoulder, and he stopped talking, slightly stunned. Eva's smile grew more due to the look on his face. "You'll tell me when you feel that you want to tell me. You're Bucky Barnes. Your job must be important. That's all I need to know right now."

Before he could get his own input in, his phone alerted him of a text message. He frowned, and Eva let him out of their hiding spot. "That'll be my ride."

She nodded, pushing an empty cart back to the return desk. She looked a bit forlorn now that he was leaving her to get back to work. Eva by no means hated her job; his company made it a little bit more fun, though. "I will see you later. Those librarians will finally be at peace," she joked.

Bucky made it to the third step down the staircase before turning back. "We'll have that movie night. Just you and me."

"Bucky Barnes, are you proposing a date?"

His skin flushed, and he was taken aback. Somehow, his gut found the words before his brain could even process a response. "If it was a date, you'd be wined and dined." He paused. "I mean… If you _want_ to be."

Eva grinned ear to ear. "I'll hold you to it. I want the most expensive wine. Vintage. Red, not white. I'm a classy lady after all."

"I recall your sweater being covered in coffee stains."

"I stand by my statement."

* * *

Bucky and Sam exited the elevator down to the fourth floor, both stoic in expressions despite the high caution both were wrought with.

"Did Steve mention anything else to you?" Bucky looked to his counterpart.

"I know just as much as you do," Sam told him. "Was in the middle of _CSI: Miami_ when he called and told me to pick you up. It was just getting to the good part, too."

"CSI… what?"

"That's just something I have to have you and Cap sit down for."

Bucky couldn't help but quirk his brow up at the man, but it quickly fell when they turned the corner to see Steve and Hill speak quietly between them. A cold feeling settled in his stomach, much like the feeling of swallowing frigid water. The pair looked up when he and Sam approached.

"Sorry about calling you both," Steve met them halfway. "I know it was your day off."

"Well, it must be damn important for me and Winnie to come down here," Sam shrugged.

Bucky turned slowly to face the Falcon, a deep frown set on his face. "Are you referring to me?" He asked bitterly.

Sam seemed to shrivel a little under his gaze while Steven couldn't help but smirk. "I didn't come up with that. You can thank Stark for that."

"Doesn't allow you to call me that, though," Bucky muttered. "Or Stark, for that matter."

"Nicknames aside," Hill joined the trio. "We have more pressing manners."

Agent Hill lead them down to the end of the hall and towards the detention center where S.H.I.E.L.D. kept prisoners- or individuals who needed to have all eyes on- in separate cells. Hill pushed the door open for them, Steve holding it open as his chivalry kicked into gear and allowed the three of them to go ahead of him. A guard sat at a desk, legs propped up and arms folded across his chest as he watched the computer screen in front of him. Verdona sat on his cot, still as a statue except for the slight breaths rising in and out of his chest.

The guard looked back over his shoulder, eyes going wide for a moment when they locked onto Hill's. His back went rigid as he scrambled to stand, saluting his officer. She dismissed him, and he sat back down.

"Anything?" She nodded towards the screen.

The guard shook his head. "Not a peep. Guy's been sitting there for a long while."

Bucky glanced at the door in the back of the small room, made of steel and fashioned with a keypad and a facial recognition scanner. A small square window was placed at his level in the door if one wanted to glance at what was on the other side.

His feet lead him to the small window, and he peeked for a look, curiosity getting the better of him. Just like the computer screen, Verdona sat still. Only there were some things that technology couldn't convey like the human eyes, no matter how advanced. The look in the bastard's eyes left a bad taste in Bucky's mouth. A slight smile, almost undetectable was plastered on his face. Almost as if he knew Bucky stood on the other side of the door. Despite the fact that Bucky was always prepared to deal with the worst, he felt strangely naked and out in the open with the man on the other side. The last they met, the Hydra member was a trembling mess in Bucky's presence, begging for mercy. Now, Bucky didn't know what to think, other than the thought that nothing could possibly make this situation turn out well.

"What does he want?" Bucky joined the huddled group, crossing his arms.

"All started earlier with an interrogation a few hours earlier," Hill leaned against the desk, glancing at Bucky, then flicked her gaze to Sam and Steve. "That run that Rogers and Stark took on investigating Hydra's armory lead to a retrieval of documents. All of them were in code, one that we've never seen before."

"Maybe I could break it," Bucky mused.

"You can't," Steve shook his head. "It was developed after you escaped Hydra. Must be in use for at least a month or two now."

"Couldn't even decipher it through our millions of code breakers. Fury wants it broken, and we tossed it to Verdona, hoping-despite the fact that he's rather tough to crack-that he could translate the information for us."

"So why are we here?" Bucky spoke up, referring to himself and Sam.

Hill shared a glance with Steve. "He's refusing, of course."

"I'm hearing a 'but' in there somewhere," Sam said.

A slight sigh was expelled. "But he's willing to cooperate and decode the material if we send in Barnes."

There was a thick silence as the three men in the room tried to process what was said. Bucky gritted his teeth. There was obviously something very, _very_ wrong with this request. No one had to state why Verdona was only willing to share information with him. The black sheep of S.H.I.E.L.D., the one who knew the ins and outs, as well as the darkest secrets of Hydra. So why not have a one-on-one chat with one of Hydra's best and Hydra's former trophy.

"I don't trust him," Bucky muttered.

"Well, I'm sure the feeling is mutual," Hill crossed her arms. "But if there's a possibility he could actually offer us something valuable, then we might as well take it. He's under our radar, outmanned, defenseless… The man has only ever been involved in scientific experimentation. A toddler could take him out with a sneeze."

"And he's an old guy," Sam jumped in. "Guy doesn't even stand a chance against Winnie. It would look bad if he beat the hell out of the elderly."

"You don't stand a chance against me, Wilson. And stop calling me that."

"So, overall," Hill cleared her throat. "Our best option is to have you sit down with him."

The whole idea didn't settle with Bucky, and he knew that he wasn't the only one who felt apprehensive over the situation. They all saw what had happened last time when Verdona was in the same proximity as Bucky. The likelihood of Bucky snapping into blind fury and wrath was overwhelmingly high. Verdona would be dead by the time the guards would come to sedate the super soldier.

The possibilities of what could happen once that door closed behind Bucky was only a small fraction of what bothered him. Verdona's likely death was justified in Bucky's eyes; the torment Bucky had gone through was enough for him to play judge, jury, and executioner. Despite this, if the situation really were to end that way, Bucky would be left with the realization and proof that he had little control inside him. His anger would be unleashed, and the darkness inside would momentarily consume him to do something catastrophic.

It already frightened him with the lack of control he already had over his thoughts and memories. The anxiety and whole terrifying symphony of emotions inside of him were always threatening to break loose from the weak cage he had formed around them. The destruction of whatever control he had left would only prove that Bucky was unfit for the field, unfit to live with independence, unfit to make his own choices.

The last mission had already had him brushing against the line in the sand. Who knew if the line would be broken, and Fury or Hill that it best to pull him out.

Despite the wishes of his troubled mind, Bucky released a sigh. "I'll do it."

Steve frowned. It shouldn't come as a surprise that he would agree.

"Good," Hill stood to her full height, and sifted through a stack of folders beside the monitor. One of them was handed to Bucky. "This is the file that was brought to us. Coax him a bit, exaggerate, maybe he'll actually translate it."

"And if he doesn't?"

Hill's lips were set in a grim line. "I think you've done quite enough interrogation in the past to know what to do."

A cold feeling swept over him while Steve stepped forward with a hard look in his eyes. Even Sam had looked uncomfortable.

"That's not what we're about here," Steve said.

Hill's neck craned over to look over at him. "But this is Hydra. They wouldn't hesitate to do what they deem is necessary. They would do far worse to their prisoners."

"It won't come to that," Bucky muttered, and their attention returned to him. He then raised his voice, "He'll talk without that kind of persuasion."

He turned on his heel and went for the door to where Verdona sat. Sam took up the seat by the far wall, while Steve and Hill behind the guard at the monitor. He gripped the doorknob, prepared to turn it before speaking up once more, eyes on the door.

"If I snap, stop me. We won't lose a lead on Hydra because I lose control."

* * *

The room was overly warm, but to Bucky it felt cold when he stepped inside. The man on the bed made it feel that way, his very essence just a stone block of ice radiating a ruthlessness. It unnerved the former assassin. Very little gave him a sense of fight or flight; however the man sitting before him was an exception.

Emille Verdona, at first sight, looked like a harmless elderly man. Those dull brown eyes seemed to exude warmth and old wisdom. He resembled a grandfather who would offer kindness to those he met. Perhaps that was why it seemed so easy for others, even those within Hydra, to easily trust him. Only those naive to believe that the man could possibly do no harm did not seem to take notice of the snake within the flowers.

People did not know the cold, rotten interior of this man like Bucky did. He was there. He had been strapped to that chair, or to a table, while Verdona circled around him like a vulture. Every amount of pain, of psychological damage was fresh in Bucky's mind as it was years ago. What Verdona claimed was reconstructing the physiology in order to create a stronger, faster being, was actually the destruction of innocent sanity.

Just looking at him made Bucky feel as if the room was gradually becoming smaller, more cage like. And when Verdona opened his mouth, it took all of his will not to choke the life out of him.

"It's nice to see you again, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky leaned against the wall across from the man sat, folding his arms up with the file resting against his chest. "Surprised that I wasn't referred to as 'Asset'."

Verdona's lips twitched into a half smile. "I'm surprised that you've gone this long without snapping my neck. Does S.H.I.E.L.D. have that tight a leash around your neck?"

His eyes narrowed. "Funny coming from someone that took a man's free will and used him as a machine."

Bucky watched as Verdona sat back against the wall, his hands folded neatly on his lap. Those dull eyes drank him in, looking him up from head to toe. It was unnerving; he felt as if he were under a microscope. There was something very sinister about his whole aura.

The moment of silence had stretched on too long for Bucky's liking, and he kicked back from the wall and tossed Verdona the file. The man's graying brow perked up, and he plucked the file from his lap. He fingered through the papers inside the folder before glancing up at the super soldier.

"And what am I supposed to do with this?"

"You and I both know what you're supposed to do. Isn't that why I was called here? So that for some reason, unbeknownst to us, you could share with us what we would like to know with my presence."

A laugh was huffed past his whiskers, and Bucky's jaw tensed. "Do you enjoy doing this? Following these orders?"

"This could be done the easy way or the hard way. Break the code on these files. Simple as that."

He only earned a chuckle in response, low and deep, yet it sounded harsh to his ears. How was the man laughing? Verdona had been a quivering mess in the back of the vehicle in Quebec after Bucky pummeled him. It was as if Bucky had suddenly become a small child who babbled nonsense, not a lethal assassin that could crush his skull with his thumb and forefinger.

"What's the rush?" Verdona heaved himself up off the cot, putting his hands behind his back with the file in hand. He paced around, turning his back on Bucky. "You have all the time in the world."

"But we don't," Bucky glared. "Unlike Hydra, S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying preserve life."

"As does Hydra," he turned abruptly. "We preserve humanity, protect it from those who are drunk from power and excessive freedoms. We are here to create and protect that perfect world, have been here since the beginning of our founder."

"A perfect world does not exist. Nothing is absolute."

"My, my…" Verdona snorted. "Seems that all our values have been flushed out of you. We could fix that."

"I'll pass on that offer," Bucky growled. "I'm not sure if being a lapdog sits well with me."

"Yet it seems to sit well with you while you follow Fury's orders," Verdona countered. "Tell me, what are you doing here, Barnes?"

"I'm here because you wanted me here."

He chuckled again, shaking his head. "That's not what I'm asking."

"And frankly, I can't be bothered."

"Does it fulfill you to follow the orders of S.H.I.E.L.D.? To have them look down on you and not celebrate your accomplishments? They do not even have an ounce of trust within you."

It felt like he had been lashed at violently. His hands fisted, and he swallowed thickly. "They have a right to," he muttered darkly. "I was under Hydra's control. Even I openly admit that I don't trust myself."

"Ah," Verdona nodded. "Perhaps. It seems that there are very little that instill faith in you."

That wasn't true, Bucky thought to himself. He could name two people, and if not Steve, then he had one person. Even though he still thought her a bit insane to even trust him that much.

"Is this why you wanted me here?" Bucky gritted out. "To stall? What do you really want?"

Verdona only smiled, crossing the few steps to meet Bucky eye to eye. "I have a theory, one that's been stewing away in my head for sometime. Curiosity has seemed to gotten the better of me."

"And what's that?"

The next thing that came out of his mouth made his flesh go cold and mind blank.

" _Sputnik._ "


End file.
